


Sweeter than Sugar

by SnowWriter



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. References, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bottom Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Bucky watching porn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Insecure Bucky Barnes, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Civil War (Marvel), Sexual Inexperience, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love, Virgin Steve Rogers, i have a slight metal arm kink oops, oh boy, there are lots of feelings, virgin!steve is everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-06-03 08:18:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6603577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowWriter/pseuds/SnowWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after the events of The Winter Soldier and leading up to Civil War, as if Bucky had returned to Steve before the Sokovia Accords were drafted. Basically: Steve and Bucky are idiots who've been in love since the '40s. They've just been too scared to do anything about it. Until Steve loses Bucky, and gets him back, and eventually can't take it anymore. Both are scared, hopeful, and above all, inexperienced. But, they have each other, and that's all that matters now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Universe Knew

**Author's Note:**

> I love writing about my favorite two 90-year-olds falling in love, and this is nothing less. Sexytimes to come in later chapters. First they have'ta admit their feelings. And their both aforementioned idiots, so it might take a while.
> 
> I picture Bucky in this story with Winter Soldier-length hair, minimal stubble.  
> Steve is his typical Cap-tastic self.
> 
> I felt a lot of emotions writing this!!!!
> 
> They're not together in the beginning, just FYI! They're just extra touchy-feely in the morning nbd :')

**Steve**

The young, mottled light of dawn fell past the loosely closed curtains, dappling the bed in oranges and purples. In a worn, soft, familiar heap lay Steve and Bucky, the latter tangled haphazardly beneath the sheets. The brunette’s brow was furrowed against the pillow, reflecting the battles fought in his dreams. He tossed, every so often, in his fitful sleep, further knotting himself in the blankets, which were now fully off Steve’s woken body. Steve, taking in his companion’s distress, gently molded his chest against Bucky’s naked back, wrapping his right arm around his middle. Bucky sighed as he was held, snuggling back into the warm embrace of Steve’s muscled front. Steve gently pushed the sweat-dampened hair off Bucky’s brow.

“Steve,” Bucky murmured sleepily, “‘m not a baby.” His actions contradicted his protests, though, as Bucky made no move to extricate himself from Steve’s arms.

Steve chuckled softly. “I know, Buck.” He pressed his face into the dark, unruly mess of Bucky’s long hair, whispering, “Go back to sleep.”

Bucky squirmed slightly, then relaxed, features smoothing into a beautiful, trusting calm. Hours past as the boys slept in tandem, cocooned in warmth and each other. As the saturated light of an older morning seeped across Bucky’s eyes, he awoke, metal arm grasping for his phone.

Eight o’clock. _Shit,_ Bucky groaned, throwing his head forcefully back onto the pillow.

“Buck,” Steve whispered, one eye open, “stop moving.”

Bucky turned to face the tousled blond man beside him.

“Stevie, we have to get up.” He reached out to shake Steve’s shoulder roughly with his metal arm.

Steve shied away from the onslaught. “C-cold, Buck,” he slurred, “we don’t have’ta get up-” his voice was muffled by the pillow pressed into his face.

“ _Yes_ we do.” Bucky slid his icy hand under Steve’s t-shirt, where his stomach was pressed against the bed.

“Ow, Bucky, _stop_ ,” Steve rose on his hands and knees, only to collapse on his back away from the reach of the brunette’s prosthesis.

“Captain Rogers,” Bucky said, feigning command, “get _up_.”  

“Buck,” Steve pulled the sheets over his body, “‘m serious. We’re meeting Sam _tomorrow_ not today.”

Bucky fell back onto the bed, pulling his hair out of the haphazard bun he’d configured.

“Oh.” He pulled the sheets towards himself; Steve grumbled as his skin became bare. “Sorry. Don’t know why I had it wrong.”

“S’okay,” Steve mumbled, face squished against his pillow. He reached out his arm in lazy invitation. “C’mere.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I’m not some dame, Steve. I don’t need to be spooned to sleep.”

Steve smiled against his pillow. “Yeah? Well I do, jerk. I’m cold. So, stop being an idiot.”

Bucky had no clever retort, so he shifted closer to Steve, morning light peppering his chest with warmth. Steve grinned and wrapped his muscled arms around the brunette’s middle, tucking his head under Bucky’s chin.

“You’re like a goddamn kitten, sometimes, Stevie.”

“Shh,” Steve admonished lazily.

 

They were both up and awake as the clock struck nine, later than usual, but understandable. The two super-soldiers had returned from a particularly brutal mission the night prior, and had the angry, purpling bruises to prove it. Bucky had gone to make coffee, while Steve changed out of his pajamas and into workout clothes. He donned his usual: grey wicking t-shirt, navy blue jogging shorts, red sneakers. He sighed as he ran a hand through his tousled blonde hair, walking out of the bedroom in search of his housemate.

“Hey,” he called, greeting the naked, muscled expanse of Bucky’s back, which was turned to the coffee-maker.

“Mornin’, Stevie,” Bucky responded, turning with two mugs in hand. He grinned as he reached out to Steve, who relieved him of one of the cups. It was the chipped, black, Saint Petersburg mug--his favorite--a memento from his first mission with Bucky. It felt like warmth and home and Bucky’s skin, soft beneath his hands in the frigid Russian air. Steve took a sip.

“Mmm,” he hummed in appreciation as the hot liquid spread throughout his chest and into his middle.

“You like? It’s aeropress. Fresh roasted. None of that Keurig shit you love.” Bucky sat down at the kitchen counter as Steve stepped over to join him.

“But the Keurig’s so easy, Buck. One button, and done.”

“God, Steve,” Bucky rolled his eyes, “for an artist you have really bad taste.” He gestured to the mug clutched in Steve’s hands. “Though you’d like something nice after a week eating S.H.I.E.LD. field rations.”

Steve shook his head in dissuasion. “No, yeah. I do. Sorry,” he laughed, “thanks.” He looked Bucky’s half-naked body, slowly bringing his eyes to meet Bucky’s. The brunette swallowed, audibly.

Steve coughed. “You don’t, uh, look ready to work out, Buck.”

Bucky grumbled into his coffee mug.

“Hey,” Steve shoved his shoulder lightly, “we can do some sparring… or try out those new sniper rifles Fury sent. S.H.I.E.L.D. lab just came out with them. Vibranium alloy, accuracy guarantee of 0.25 MoAs… c’mon, Buck.”

Bucky put down his empty mug, pushing away from the table with his metal hand. “Fine, fine, _Cap_. God forbid I let these bruises heal before I get some new ones.”

Steve grinned. “I’ll go easy on ya.”

Bucky grabbed Steve’s half-empty mug away from him, finishing it in two gulps. “You better not, Punk.”

 

“Showers?” Steve toed off his sneakers as they returned to the apartment, “Then lunch?”

Bucky stretched his right arm over his chest, grunting. “Sounds good. But I’m going first.” He twisted his torso around, face contorted in pain. He pointed to Steve, angrily, declaring, “Rest of the day, nothing. I’m doing nothing. I’m ninety-nine years old, for God’s sake.”

Steve laughed, and moved to sit down on the coach, retorting, “I’m ninety-eight and I feel fine. And I have 25% more limbs to get hurt. You’ve got a leg up, well… an arm up.”

“Too soon!” Bucky called from inside the bathroom, voice becoming muffled as the water hit the tile.

Steve chuckled to himself, propping his feet on the glass coffee table as his bone-tired body sunk deep into the couch cushions. Bucky was singing, masked by the falling water, notes slipping under the doorframe, surrounding Steve in familiar comfort. _It didn’t used to be this easy,_ he mused, resting his head back against the pillow. When Bucky first returned, it was like walking on cracked glass; uncertain, barbed, haunting… every hour Bucky’s predicament changing, his mind slipping, his health failing. It sucked. And it was Steve’s fault. _I let him go._ No amount of time would change that. The train. The screaming. Wanting to jump after him, to save him, and, if not, die with him. Feeling like half his soul had been ripped off and buried. Seventy years did nothing to muffle that pain, that roar, that fire behind his eyelids. But Bucky was back. He hadn’t died, not really, and Steve was never going to let him go again. They had started sharing a bed the second week after S.H.I.E.L.D. had released Bucky from the base; it had felt natural, comfortable. Bucky had been beginning to recall their childhood, and those cold winter nights where tiny asthmatic Steve’s only heat source was his brunette friend. Bucky sought that familiarity, and Steve was glad, scared of parting with him for the dark hours of night. They both liked the contact; it made them feel safe, connected, alive. They were both relics of an era irrevocably gone, and they needed each other to feel real. No one but Bucky remembered Sarah’s laugh, his knobby knees, and various bouts of sickness, except for Peggy, and only briefly. Steve and Bucky loved each other, wholly and completely, together like pieces of a near-destroyed puzzle, but together nonetheless.

 _Friends?_ The media loved using their story to highlight the power of friendship, how it transcends time, mortality, and reason… but _is that what we are?_ The term didn’t feel right to Steve. You don’t fall asleep curled around your friend. Your friend doesn’t let you kiss their neck to calm them down after a nightmare. You don’t get turned on by your friend’s half-naked body. You wouldn’t light the world on fire a hundred times over to find your friend.

 _Brothers._ Maybe before. Not now. They weren’t children anymore. This wasn’t something he could run from, or punch his way through until his hands stung more than his chest.

 _No._ He couldn’t lose Bucky. He couldn’t lose what they had for something Steve himself didn’t fully understand. Being close to him was enough. It had to be.

“Steve!” Bucky called from the slightly open bathroom door, “there aren’t any damn bath towels!”

Steve moved to stand. “Hang on, I’ll find one.”

Bucky opened the door, fully.  “It’s okay. I used one of the hand towels.” He stood in the doorway, completely naked, holding a wet hand towel out in proof. Steve laughed awkwardly and ducked his head down, cheeks bright red. Bucky scowled and threw the towel towards the laundry room, before starting towards the bedroom. “I’m freezing! If the heat’s broken in this apartment again I’m going to sue the landlord.”

“You do that,” Steve retorted, trying to stop himself from looking at his “friend’s” ass as he walked away.

He looked up at the ceiling. _Are you serious?_ God was silent. _After what I literally just said? Are you testing me?_

 

**Bucky**

After dinner, the boys watched a movie, snuggling under fleece blankets to ward off the winter’s chill. This was routine, after missions, to spend a night relaxing and watching mindless romantic comedies. Tonight’s was _He’s Just Not That Into You._

“That girl looks like a blonde Natasha.” Bucky pointed at the screen.

“Her? Yeah, kinda. That’s funny.” Steve smiled. “Can’t imagine her crying over a guy, though. ‘Cept maybe Barton.”

“Shh,” Bucky admonished, flapping his hands at Steve. “This is the good part.”

The credits rolled soon after, and Steve went to fold up the blankets. Bucky was still on the couch, phone in hand, brow furrowed in search of the movie’s cast list.

“Scarlett Johansson!” He held out his phone triumphantly to Steve. “They’re identical. Long lost twins. Nat’s gonna freak.” He took the phone back. “Is she at base right now? She needs to know.”

“I think so. She’s working on something with Fury. Which,” he started towards the bedroom, “is never a good thing.”

Bucky snorted, heading towards the bathroom to brush his teeth. He’d been told they’d been together, him and Natasha, at some point as Hydra’s pet, but he could only vaguely remember it.

Anything good during that time was washed away like blood down a drain, existent, but lost. He remembered the kills, having his sole will reduced to his missions, his identity one with a gun. He hadn’t wanted to come back to Steve. He felt immense guilt at marring the goodness of his best friend with the blackness of his past; his blood soaked hands did not deserve the purity of Steve’s untainted skin. Bucky’s ghosts followed him. Steve didn’t deserve to meet them. It was selfish, coming back to him, but he needed him, more than anything. To feel good, real, remember _Bucky,_ rather than the Winter Soldier. He had wanted to keep his distance, at first, not wanting Steve to think he’d gotten his best friend back. He wasn’t Bucky. Well, he was, but he was irrevocably different, and he couldn’t crush Steve’s hopes. But he had started to remember, piece by piece, Steve telling him, everyday, that he was a victim, not a monster… and, well, at times it felt like the forties, back in Brooklyn. He had loved Steve, fiercely and absolutely, from the moment they met. He would lift the world like Atlas if it would keep Steve from falling. People called them brothers.

 _Brothers?_ That wasn’t right, not really. Steve was his entire world. He had never needed anyone else.

“Buck, I need to brush my teeth.” Steve pounded on the door. “Stop daydreaming.”

Bucky’s eyes snapped to the sound. “One sec!”

He returned his toothbrush to its holder, rinsing his hands under the tepid tap water. He opened the door, greeted by a somewhat annoyed, boxer-clad Steve, who was tapping his foot restlessly.

“You spend too much time waiting for the water to heat up.” Steve complained, pushing past Bucky into the bathroom.

Bucky shrugged. “At least we have hot water now, Stevie. I used to have’ta use the kettle to warm up your hands ‘n feet when you’d ignore me and go out in the zero degree New York weather, like an _idiot.”_

“Oh please,” Steve retorted, “you definitely miss getting to tell me off all the time.”

Bucky put his hands on his hips, “I can still do that. You’re still the same punk.” He gestured up and down Steve’s body. “Just bigger.”

“I’m America’s sweetheart!” Steve exclaimed as he shut the bathroom door. “I can’t handle such blasphemy.”

“You’re somethin’, alright,” Bucky grumbled as he headed to the bedroom to change.

He slipped off his black t-shirt, folded it neatly, and put it back in his drawer. He shucked off his black jeans and did the same. He then pulled a long, grey cloth sleeve over his metal arm, which reached from his shoulder down to his hands, in which there were five exact holes for his fingers. Steve didn’t mind the metal arm touching him, but Bucky knew it was sometimes cold and uncomfortable on bare skin, so he took the necessary precautions. After tugging it in place, Bucky went to turn off the light, tumbling back onto the bed as the room fell to darkness. He arranged himself underneath the topsheet and fleece blanket, waiting for Steve to exit the bathroom and come join him.

The bathroom door opened. “Buck, I can’t see.” There was some fumbling, and a phone flashlight turned on, shining directly into Bucky’s face. “Oh, hey.”

Steve walked over and climbed into the bed, turning off the flashlight and plugging in his phone, before joining Bucky underneath the sheets.

There was a pause. “G’night, Stevie.” Bucky said, turning his back to the blonde man in invitation.

“Night, Buck.” Steve hesitated, unsure, as he gazed at Bucky’s turned back. He wanted to hold him, desperately, but it felt wrong, now, inappropriate: Bucky didn’t feel the same way. _I can’t take advantage of him,_ Steve determined, agitatedly running a hand through his hair. _Shit._

Bucky turned his head, questioningly. “You okay?”

“Yeah, uh,” Steve sat up, “I’m gonna go get some water.”

“Mmkay,” Bucky mumbled, planting his cheek back on the pillow.

 

**Steve**

Steve ducked out the bedroom door, pulling on a zip-up sweatshirt as he exited. His face felt hot, the apartment stuffy, his chest licked with pain. He crossed behind the sofa, sliding open the door to balcony, quietly. He sat down, feeling bruised and sore, onto one of the two patio chairs they kept on the small, wooden terrace. Steve looked up at the stars. He wanted to cry.

“Steve?” Bucky stood behind him, shirtless and ethereal, as he stepped outside.

Steve dropped his head, tears welling in his eyes, embarrassed to meet the brunette’s gaze. Bucky stepped forward, worriedly, bending down beside Steve’s hunched form. He reached out, fingers touching lightly at Steve’s chin, urging his face upward. Bucky saw the salted wetness lacing his cheeks, heart constricting in dread as Steve’s reddened eyes met his.

“You’re crying?” Steve turned away, embarrassed. “Fuck. Stevie, c’mon,” Bucky implored desperately, “what happened? Is it Peggy? Is she okay?” His heart sank. “Is it me? Did I do something?”

Steve trembled, slightly, rubbing his hands down his face. “No, no, Peggy’s fine. You…” His voice was hoarse, broken. “You’re good. Sorry. It’s nothing.”

Bucky sat back in the chair beside him; disbelief colored his face. “Steve, something’s wrong.” He sat forward, affirming, “You know you can tell me, right? Whatever it is.” Steve’s face remained downcast. “Fine. I’ll talk.” Bucky sat back, beginning, “Just… let me get this off my chest. I think you still feel guilty. About what happened to me. I think you think you let me fall, that you could’ve done more. But it was my choice, Steve,” Bucky smiled, “I would’ve followed you anywhere. Would’ve done anything. Thought I could protect you. All six-fuckin’-feet.” He laughed. “There’s no place I would’ve rather died than fighting beside you, doing something important, the right thing… I don’t regret it. You started a war for me. You say you didn’t but I _know_ you did. I came back and It made things harder for you. I’m sorry,” he ran his metal hand through his hair, “I didn’t want that. You don’t make good decisions when it comes to me.” Steve sputtered.

Bucky continued, “You don’t! I’m dangerous to you. I make Captain America selfish. I muddied the water for you. Bloodied it, even.” Bucky frowned. “ _Fuck_ , I’m so sorry, Steve.” He took a deep breath. “You got me through the war, you know. Not just when you saved me from the Hydra base. Which was stupid, by the way. I thought about you, when I wanted to quit. Die. The blood and pain doesn’t seem so bad now, but it was then. I just kept picturing you, and our apartment, and your dumb cut-up face when you’d take on someone twice your size.” Bucky grinned. “All the other guys had these girls back home, but I had you. It was kinda tricky to explain to them, but I didn’t really care. You were my light. Still are. _Shit_ , this got sappy. Uh,” He looked over at Steve. “I’m sorry I left you. That night before I deployed. I thought about it a lot overseas. I should’ve spent it with you. Not those girls. They didn’t mean anything… you’re my best friend, my family, you mean everything to me. _Fuck_ , I’m sorry.”

Steve met his fervent gaze, apprehensively, and began, “Don’t-” his voice cracked, “don’t apologize. Not ever. For any of it. Buck,” Steve shut his eyes tightly, “I found you. I made that choice. And I’d do it again a hundred times over. What they did to you… what _you_ did… was not your fault. It was them. You’re the best person I’ve ever known, period. You’re everything to me.” Tears welled again in his eyes. “Bucky, I felt like I died when you fell. Nothing mattered. I finished it for you. Thought I’d die crashing the plane; thought it wouldn’t matter. But God wouldn’t let me quit.” He smiled, sadly. “I’ve never loved anything like I love you. You’re my best friend, Buck, but it's more than that. It’s always been more than that. I never realized until now. It’s okay if you don’t-”

“Steve,” Bucky cut him off, “what the fuck do you think I’ve been trying to say? I don’t know how to make it anymore goddamn obvious. I’ve loved you since I was twelve. In all ways. You’re it. You’ve always been it.” He laughed, incredulous, “How have we never had this conversation? Eighty-odd years. _Jesus_.”

Steve was looking at him, mouth parted and astounded, “I don’t--uh--want to guilt you into anything… force you…”

Bucky laughed. “When have you _ever_ forced me to do anything? C’mon, you know me. More than anyone.”

“Buck... “ Steve took his hand, hesitant, but imbued with purpose. Bucky put his metal hand behind Steve’s head.

“I know this is gonna feel weird, after all this time, but,” Bucky met Steve’s gaze heatedly, “I’m gonna kiss you.”

Steve leaned forward in tandem with Bucky, lips meeting softly in the light of the waxing moon. Bucky smiled against Steve’s mouth. He pulled away.

“You kiss like a punk.”

Steve chuckled. “Yeah? Well, I haven’t had much practice.”

They looked at each other, faces painted in moonlight.  Bucky dropped his hand from behind Steve’s neck. They didn’t need anything deeper-- for once time was on their side. A small smile lit the brunette’s face.

Steve cocked his head in question, “What is it?”

In answer, Bucky turned his head upwards to the stars. “After all this time, Stevie. _God_ , why didn’t we notice? The fucking universe knew, and we didn’t?”

“I think we did, Buck. I think we always knew.”


	2. The Scars We Hide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of their confessions. Bucky and Steve try to figure out how this whole relationship thing is going to work, their sexualities, boundaries, etc. 
> 
> And for all of you about to be crushed by Civil War here's some un-angsty, fluffy Stucky to get you through these hard times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, FYI, Bucky Barnes is not a morning person. Steve is. Kinda.  
> Also, Bucky is not a virgin. Steve is. Also kinda. 
> 
> Embarrassed Steve is my favorite Steve! ;)

**Steve**

It was three in the morning; the moonlight waned as it ushered in the dawn. The boys sat, sleepy, yet content, with hands intertwined on the small balcony. The sounds of DC –  car horns, braking trucks, florescent lights – were, at this distance, transformed into a pleasant hum. 

“Buck,” Steve turned to look at moonlit companion, “it’s late. We should go to sleep.” 

Bucky squeezed his hand, still fixing his eyes forward. “It’s so peaceful, though.” He met Steve’s gaze, biting his bottom lip anxiously. “What if this’s a dream, Stevie? What if I wake up, and everything’s different?” he motioned to their entwined hands, “Everything’s gone?” 

Steve clutched his hand tighter in response, heart beating blithely against his ribcage in passionate rhythm. Steve stood, pulling Bucky into a firm, comforting embrace.  _ How can he not realize?  _ Steve contemplated in disbelief. He held him tighter, protectively, until Bucky’s arms relaxed around him. Bucky’s body, severity masked by fatigue and hope, molded against Steve; the brunette let out a content sigh.

Steve grinned against the brunette’s shoulder. “For someone so smart, you can be awfully… stupid, sometimes.” He leaned back, brushing a stray lock of Bucky’s hair behind his ear. “I’m not going anywhere, jerk. Not ever. You can’t get rid of me.”

“Good. ‘Cause I’m cold,” Bucky gestured to his naked chest. “Didn’t know I’d be out here soothing your ass the whole damn night.”

Steve laughed, “Sure, blame me, Buck.” He moved to slide open the terrace door, pulling Bucky along with him. He turned back, slightly, retorting, “Or maybe you just have terrible foresight.” He walked into the darkened living room, almost knocking into the couch as he advanced forward. 

“ _ Wow _ , that’s some big talk for a man in Disney boxers,” Bucky countered, gently pushing Steve toward the bedroom.  

Steve threw his hands up incredulously. “They  _ gave _ me these! When the Captain America ride opened. I didn’t ask.” 

They entered the bedroom, met by a dim, yet warm, light. The lamp atop Bucky’s bedside table was on; the sheets lay crumpled at the foot of the bed.

“Sure, sure, Rogers,” Bucky retorted, flinging himself unceremoniously onto the bed, “I believe you.”

Steve grinned, bending down to crawl over to Bucky’s side on the well-worn mattress. He laid down next to him, snuggling, kitten-like, into the warm crook of Bucky’s chest. Bucky reached back to flick off the lamp, before throwing his covered metal arm around Steve, pulling him closer, naked skin warm against his clothed back. 

Steve closed his eyes, smiling softly against the pillow. He felt safe, the war within him hushed to a fervent peace as his best friend held him. He was exposed, vulnerable, they both were – for once humans, and not myths. Steve and Bucky.  _ Like old times _ . 

“I can feel your heartbeat,” Steve whispered. 

“I’m alive, Stevie,” Bucky responded sleepily, “you’re s’pose to.” 

Steve chuckled, a warmth spreading languidly from his chest and outward. In Bucky’s arms he felt small, protected – the weight of the world momentarily lifted from his shoulders. He was home. “Night, Buck.”

Bucky adjusted his head behind Steve’s, sighing contentedly. “G’night, punk.”

 

The break of dawn was met by a ringing phone, Steve’s, to be exact. He extricated himself from Bucky’s arms, reaching towards the beeping noise. The screen flashed harshly in the darkened room. Steve had two missed calls, both from Natasha, and a single text.

He nudged his drowsy companion. 

“Buck,  _ Buck,  _ we have to get up.”

Bucky rolled onto his back, rubbing his hands over his face. His hair stuck up in about fifteen different places, and when combined with his expression gave the air of an angry caveman.

“It’s five, Steve, what could they possibly want.” Bucky rolled over again, back facing Steve, determined to ignore whatever the world had in store for them. 

Steve frowned at his phone. “I don’t know. Classified.” He pulled Bucky’s shoulder, forcing him onto his back. The brunette grumbled, attempting to pull the sheets over his head in escape. Steve grabbed them down, shooting his companion a withering look. 

_ “Bucky. _ ” He shoved the glowing screen in front of his face intrusively. “We have to go in.” 

Bucky moved into a sitting position, offering a litany of curses in response. 

“What do they have against sleep? We just fought a major Hydra cell in  _ Russia.  _ Russia, Steve!” Bucky grimaced, running a hand through his unruly hair. He looked over at Steve’s irked expression, blue eyes defiant and resolute, and sighed in defeat. “Fine. For you.”

 

Bucky stood, still grumbling, and moved to get dressed. He opened the drawer, pulling on a long-sleeved, black shirt. 

“I miss the days when S.H.I.E.L.D was dead and couldn’t fucking call us _ , _ ” he whined, as he changed his underwear and put on black jeans.

Steve nodded, yet his thoughts flashed back to the bridge – his memory of the fateful encounter punctuated by the crack of machine gun shells. And Bucky, standing feral and masked before Steve, more animal than man, muzzled and chained.  _ Who the hell is Bucky?  _ It played on repeat in Steve’s mind, plaguing him with thoughts of helplessness and relapse.  _ He’s safe,  _ Steve assured himself,  _ he’s safe. _

Bucky’s increasingly cacophonous grumbling snapped Steve out of his reverie, and the blonde moved to change as well. 

“I’m sure it’s important, Buck. Someone needs us.” 

Bucky handed Steve his favorite brown leather coat, still frowning. “Someone better need us  _ a lot _ and  _ right now _ , because I was looking forward to coffee and your sexy morning-hair.” 

Steve bit his lip, turning slightly to put on his jacket.  _ Don’t blush, you moron.  _ He laughed awkwardly. “Um, If messy is sexy, then sure.” 

Bucky smirked, walking over to run a hand through Steve’s mussed, blonde hair. Steve shied away from the touch. Bucky’s hair, in contrast, had been combed into the semblance of order. 

“Everything is sexy on you,” he replied with a wink. 

Steve shook his head in exasperation, pushing him away. “Shut up.” 

Bucky laughed, turning to grab his phone from the bedside table. “This is gonna take some getting used to, huh? It’s gonna be weird.” 

Steve smiled. “Yeah. Good, though, I think.” He bent down to pull on his shoes. “Just don’t start treating me like one of your dames.”

Bucky chuckled, pulling on his leather gloves. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Stevie. You’re too much of a dork, anyway.” 

Steve smacked his right arm, hard, knocking Bucky off balance as he laughed. “I’d quit while you’re ahead, Buck. I outrank you, you know.”  

Bucky continued to chuckle, grabbing the wall to regain his balance. “What’s a captain gonna do against a sniper? You’d never see me coming.”

Steve gasped in faux-outrage. “You can’t threaten Captain America; I’m pretty sure it’s against the law.”

He grabbed Bucky’s hand to pull him out of the bedroom and towards the door of the apartment. Steve laced up his combat boots, while Bucky zipped up his black stealth coat. 

Steve looked him up and down. “Ready?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

 

“If I hear the word ‘inhuman’ one more time, I’m gonna punch Coulson in the face.” Bucky sat down heavily on the couch as the two men returned from base. 

“Metal or flesh?” Steve asked, joining him.

“Metal,” Bucky responded, clenching his left hand into a fist in demonstration. “That’s how you know I’m serious.”

Steve frowned. They’d been at base all day doing heavy tactical training. Steve and Bucky were strong, but they didn’t have inhuman powers, and had to train thusly. The Avengers, both new and old, had to be ready to face any type of Inhuman threat, difficult, considering the wide array of abilities they possessed. 

“Hydra was easier to fight when it was just people. Now they have Inhumans. And we don’t even know what choice they had in joining.” Steve looked over at Bucky inadvertently, seeking comfort and reassurance. _ And I’m scared.  _ He couldn’t say it.

Bucky grinned, ignoring the worried look on Steve’s face. “You’ve always had a soft-spot for brainwashed soldiers.” 

Steve rolled his eyes, deciding to play along with Bucky’s lightened mood. “What can I say, I’ve always loved a good damsel in distress.” 

Steve’s smirk was met with a semi-playful shove from Bucky, who retorted, “I pulled your ass out of the river, Stevie, not the other way around.”

Steve shrugged. “Details, details.” He stood, twisting his torso to stretch. “Want dinner? It’s late but we could order something.” 

Steve wasn’t at all hungry, he felt nauseous, even, at the expense of the day’s events. The world was growing wary of powered people. That included Steve, but, more importantly, included Bucky. _ They don’t even know what he’s done,  _ Steve ruminated, watching Bucky sift through takeout menus. The Winter Soldier was a ghost, and like a ghost he haunted them. 

Bucky turned to Steve. “I’m starving. Pizza? I think we owe it to ourselves.” He reached for the phone before Steve had a chance to answer. 

“Fine, but I want half pepperoni,” Steve responded with a forced smile. 

“Deal.”

 

The pizza came shortly after, and the boys put out plates and napkins on their small dining table. Bucky sat down quickly, reaching into the box to stuff a cheesy slice into his mouth. He hummed in appreciation as Steve joined him at the table.

“I know you love freedom, but I think pizza is the real American dream.” Bucky took another large bite, gesturing at Steve to start eating.

Steve peeled off a piece of pepperoni and put it in his mouth. “And we can afford it now, which is nice.”

Bucky nodded, moving to grab his second slice, grease shining luminously off his metal fingers. Bucky gestured to the nearly-untouched slice on Steve’s plate. 

“Eat, Stevie. You’ve gotta be hungry.”

Steve smiled, face tight with anxiety. “I’m eating. I just don’t eat like a starving animal. You have sauce on your chin.” He reached over to wipe the red splotch off the brunette’s face.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Mom. You’re still not eating, you know.” 

Steve looked down at his plate. “Not hungry. Maybe I’m coming down with something.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed in concern. “We’re super-soldiers. We can’t get sick, Steve.” Bucky narrowed his eyes, attempting to read the blonde’s expression across the table. “What is it? Something with today? I don’t know why you’re so worried. Worse shit’s gone down. It’s gonna be okay.” Bucky sat forward. “The Inhuman thing is crazy, I know. It’s big. I’m scared. But we can handle it. You’ve got all of S.H.I.E.L.D. behind you.” Bucky reached across the table to take Steve’s hand in his own.

Steve grimaced. “It’s not just that, Buck. People are scared. Of powered people, of superheroes, of _ us _ .”

“Who could possibly be afraid of you? You’re like a puppy.”

Steve clenched his jaw, removing his hand from Bucky’s. “I’m serious.” He folded his arms across his lap. “If the government decides to do something, take it out of S.H.I.E.L.D’s hands… it won’t be good. Buck, they could come for you.”

Bucky sat back. “Nobody’s coming for me. What’s the government gonna do? Fight us? Steve, I’m telling you, we’re gonna be okay. I know you’ve got me.”

Steve looked down at the table, clenching his eyes to dull the roar of his thoughts. He heard them, sometimes, distantly, the cacophony of war cries and gunshots, echoes of battles he couldn’t win. He needed to block them out; Bucky didn’t need to know how deep his insecurities ran.  _ I can’t lose him, not now.  _ Steve was terrified, but wallowing now would do little good for either of them.

“You’re right. Sorry.” Steve rubbed his face roughly. “I don’t know why it’s all getting to me now.” He bit into his lukewarm piece of pizza. “Can we talk about something else? Anything.”

Bucky smirked. “Sure.” A playful twinkle lit his eyes. “Anything?” Steve nodded. “Okay, so, did you and Peggy, ever, you know…?”

Steve spluttered, nearly choking on half-chewed dough. Bucky laughed at his expression. 

“It’s a valid question, Stevie.”

Steve coughed, trying to swallow. “What? No, we – uh – never did anything like that.”

Bucky cocked an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah, never. We kissed a couple times, though.” Steve reddened prettily. 

Bucky met his gaze, smiling at the vehemence of his reaction. “Did you love her?”

Steve looked down at the table, anxiously fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “Yes, I think. First girl that ever paid attention to me. Before I became,” he gestured down at himself, “this. She was all I had after you fell.” His heart clenched painfully. He looked up at Bucky.  “C’mon, Buck, I don’t want to talk about this sad stuff.”

Bucky bit his lip, replying, “Sorry. Was just curious. I don’t think I’ve ever been attracted to a girl, romantically, at least.” He winked at Steve. “I did like the sex.”

Steve shot him a withering look. “And yet Bucky Barnes refused to make an honest woman out of any of them,” he joked.

“I had my work cut out for me with you. Didn’t want anyone else in our little world, you know?” Bucky looked up coyly at Steve. “And don’t change the subject. I still want to know. How far have you been with a woman? Or man, I guess?” 

The rouge of Steve’s cheeks deepened as he looked across the table at Bucky. “I, uh,” he cleared his throat, “the, uh, kiss. With Natasha, most recently. That’s all I’ve done.” He caught Bucky’s widening smile. “Don’t you dare laugh at me, Bucky. You know how awkward I was around girls –  well,” he frowned, “anyone, really.”

Bucky grinned at Steve. “I’m not laughing, Stevie. It’s good. I’d’ve felt a little jealous if you’d said you had.”

“Wow.” Steve crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Is that why you set me up with girls way out of my league? I can’t believe James Buchanan Barnes was jealous.”

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, feigning innocence. “I did nothing of the sort.” He dropped his teasing tone as he gazed at Steve. “I’m serious. I wanted you to be happy. I really didn’t think any of them were good enough for you.”

“Yeah, it’s shocking they didn’t want to be saddled with a ninety-pound asthmatic,” Steve replied, sarcasm lacing his tone. _ It hurt,  _ Steve remembered. The constant rejection, being passed over again and again... and so he’d erected a wall between himself and others, isolating himself against the world.  _ Except Bucky.  _

Bucky scowled. “They were shallow. I’d’ve picked you a thousand times over any of them.”

Steve eyed him in disbelief. “So you were never really interested in any of them? Ever?”

Bucky sat forward, resting his elbows on the table. “No, not really. Never was interested past one night, ya know? Just did it ‘cause everyone was doing it.” He smiled demurely. “Was always glad I could come home to you, though.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You’re such a sap, Buck.”

Bucky responded, in mock offense, “Oh, please. And you’re not? I wasn’t the one crying on a balcony last night.”

Steve smiled, standing up to clear the dishes. He looked down at Bucky. “I’m glad it happened. I’m really glad, Buck. It’s been way too long.”

Bucky stood, picking up the empty pizza box. “You’re damn right.”

 

After dinner, the boys showered (separately), changed, and collapsed into bed. Bucky wore a soft, worn grey tee and red boxers, while Steve had donned his favorite navy sweatpants. Bucky was on his back, lying to the right of Steve, eyes glued intently on his phone. Steve was propped up by an elbow, on his side, reading about the newest S.H.I.E.L.D tech. Steve looked up from the two-hundred page brief at Bucky.

“What are you reading?”

“Something about quantum computing.” He turned his gaze from the screen to Steve’s curious face. “I’ve got a lot of catching up to do, Stevie. The world’s come pretty far from Howard Stark’s expos.” 

“I know.” Steve rolled away from Bucky to put the S.H.I.E.L.D brief on his bedside table. He shifted back closer to Bucky, whose face was scrunched in concentration. Steve smiled at his expression, reaching over to finger the grey cloth covering his prosthesis. Bucky batted his hand away, focus never leaving the dimly illuminated screen. 

“You don’t have to wear this, you know.” Steve reached down to touch the exposed metal at his fingertips, marveling at the intricacies of the small mechanical joints.

“I know. And I know the arm’s uncomfortable for you, so,” he patted the sleeve with his right arm, “I wear it.”

Steve eyed him intently. “I’ve never said it’s uncomfortable, Buck.” He reached underneath Bucky’s t-shirt to where the sleeve met his skin, beginning to tug it down.

Bucky jolted away from Steve’s touch, dropping his phone on the bed. “Steve, stop.”

Steve let go immediately, Bucky’s expression unreadable. Steve explained, “Sorry. I, uh,  like looking at it. Don’t want you to feel like you have to hide it from me.”

Bucky met his gaze, blue eyes hesitant. “I – ” he scratched the back of his neck nervously, “It’s not that. I don’t like it touching you. Feels wrong. Feels like, uh, they’re touching you, not me.” He picked up his phone again, trying to ignore Steve’s intense gaze.

“Bucky,” Steve grabbed the phone out of his hands, “can we talk about this?” 

Steve’s heart panged as Bucky continued to avoid his scrutiny; Bucky focused instead on the ceiling.

Bucky answered, “I already said, feels wrong.”

Steve didn’t know what to say.  _ It’s part of you,  _ he thought,  _ I love every part of you.  _ He took the covered metal hand in his, squeezing it slightly.

He looked at Bucky’s face. “It’s not them, Buck. It’s you. Reminds me everyday that – ” his voice caught in this throat, “that I almost lost you. That you’re alive. Here. With me.” He held Bucky’s hand against his chest. “I think it’s beautiful. Like a battle scar.” He reached again underneath Bucky’s t-shirt, feeling along the sleeve’s seam, pleading softly, “Please?”

Bucky swallowed, still refusing to look at Steve, but nodded in approval. Steve tugged the sleeve along the glossy metal, marveling again at the intricacies of the interlocking metal plates. Once the sleeve was completely off, Steve leaned down to kiss the metal hand, carefully eyeing Bucky’s response. The brunette was looking at him, eyes full and bare, brimming with emotion.

Steve rubbed his shoulder, reassuringly. “Is this okay?” 

Bucky threw his head back, closing his eyes, while small smile crept across his face. “Yeah,” he murmured. 

Steve ran his hands across the synthetic bicep, inspecting closely how the metal plates moved in tandem at the hinge of his elbow. He bent down, kissing the inside of the joint. A metallic scent filled his nose; he breathed it in, saturating his senses with the sharpness of metal and the sweetness of the cotton t-shirt…  both heady and wonderful and pure and so uniquely  _ Bucky.  _ Steve sat up, and stared intently at Bucky’s face, trying to gauge his response. His eyes were still closed, long lashes brushing his cheekbones, but his face was smooth, peaceful. He opened his eyes, and looked over at Steve.

“Why’d you stop?” His brow furrowed.

Steve smiled, running his hand down the arm once more. “Sorry.” He stopped at the fingertips. “Do you like this? I can stop.”

Bucky moved the arm behind Steve’s neck, pulling him closer until they were mere inches apart.

“I like it,” he answered, leaning up to place a quick kiss onto Steve’s lips. He pulled away, smiling. “Keep going.” 

Steve’s heart beat quickly; his face felt warm, mind aflame with the sight and smell of the man before him. He reached down, fingering the hem of Bucky’s t-shirt. 

“Can I…?” He met Bucky’s gaze, brow furrowed in question. 

Bucky swallowed, nodding, “yeah.” 

Steve pulled the shirt up, over Bucky’s head and arms, and threw it on the ground. His pulse raced as he took in Bucky’s naked chest, awestruck as he shifted his focus to his left shoulder. 

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered against the tanned skin of his collarbone; Bucky, in response, bit his lip, hiding a smile.

Steve ran his finger along the arm’s seam where flesh met metal, taking in the mottled pink of age-old scars – crisscrossing in a mosaic of loss and salvation. He dipped his head down, placing a light kiss atop the metal shoulder. He could feel Bucky’s steady breathing above him, yet Steve’s pulse remained brisk, fleeting in and out of syncopation.  _ He’s never let me see him like this,  _ Steve thought,  _ so exposed.   _ He moved his mouth over the speckled scars, pressing delicate kissing along the seam of the arm. He felt Bucky’s chest tremble; Steve jerked his head up in fear of going too far, too soon, but the brunette was laughing above him. He looked at Steve, grinning. 

“Tickles,” he explained. 

“Does it hurt?” Steve asked, pressing his finger down on a particularly gnarled scar beside Bucky’s nipple. The skin across Bucky’s chest was raised with goosebumps from Steve’s ministrations; Bucky shivered against the touch.

Bucky adjusted his body, sitting up slightly against the headboard, replying, “Not anymore.” He flexed the arm in demonstration. “Can’t really feel anything where the scars are.” He frowned, looking down at his left shoulder. “ _ God _ , it’s ugly. Can’t believe the serum couldn’t heal it.”  

“Buck,” Steve propped himself up on his knees, taking the metal hand in his, “I’d’ve literally rather you had four metal limbs – scratch that – no limbs, than not have you at all.” He smiled at Bucky, whose expression was slowly becoming lighter, lips curling up slightly. “I wouldn’t care if you were covered head-to-toe in scars. Completely burnt. Unrecognizable.” Bucky laughed. Steve grinned. “I’m serious. I like the arm. You don’t have to hide it from me.” Steve leaned forward, bracing his arms on the bed on opposite sides of Bucky’s chest, leaning his face close to Bucky’s. The brunette looked away, avoiding Steve’s scrutiny. 

“You’ll associate good things with it soon. I promise,” Steve whispered, kissing Bucky lightly on his temple, heart full. 

Bucky turned back to face him, smirking. “Is that innuendo, Stevie? I’m shocked.” 

Steve dropped his head to his chest, chuckling, “I meant with helping people. Working with S.H.I.E.L.D. Using the arm for good, not evil.” He met Bucky’s gaze, “Of course you thought I was talking about sex.” 

Bucky laughed. “Good. ‘Cause I’ll let it touch you, but I won’t let it touch you  _ there. _ ” 

Steve’s felt his face redden, pushing away from Bucky and sitting up. 

“ _ Bucky, _ ” he chided, shaking his head in embarrassment. 

It’s not like Steve hadn’t thought of it, in fact he’d thought of doing a lot of things with Bucky, preferably naked. But this was  _ Bucky,  _ his best friend, his family, and talking about sex with him, now, was unnerving… and exciting. And Bucky was so open, so willing to let Steve in, see him, really  _ see _ him, without the veneer of indifference he showed to others. Steve didn’t want to take advantage of that; he wanted Bucky to know he was interested in more than something physical, that he wanted him, scars and all, in all ways. 

Bucky reached out, pulling Steve down next to him. 

“Sorry,” Bucky atoned, smiling, “I know we were having a nice moment.”  

Steve met his gaze, returning the grin. “S’okay.” He bit his lip. “We  _ should  _ talk about it, though. I promise I’m not that much of a prude.” 

Bucky laughed, grabbing Steve’s arm to pull him down on top of him. “I’m not gonna sign some freaky Fifty-Shades sex contract, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “When the hell did you have a chance to read _ Fifty Shades of Grey?”  _ Bucky shrugged. “And no, that’s not what I’m asking. I, uh,” Steve ducked his head down, color rising to his cheeks, “want to go on a date. With you. A real one.” 

Bucky smiled. “We’ve been living together for three months. And I’ve seen you naked.” Steve shot him a withering look.  _ “Okay.  _ Yeah, I want to, too.” His smile faded. “But we barely have time to eat together, let alone go out.”  

Steve nodded, brow furrowed in thought. “Maybe we can get some time off? Go up to Brooklyn for a couple days?” 

Bucky ran his hand down Steve’s arm, answering, “Captain America doesn’t get time off.”

Steve grabbed his hand, intertwining their fingers. “Well, Captain America has a pretty good reason to.” Steve smiled sadly. “Buck, we’ve let,” he gestured to the metal arm and to his own body, “all this tear us apart how many times now? I’m not going to let that happen again.” 

Bucky squeezed his hand. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s just hope there’s no world-wide catastrophe while we're away.” 

Steve grinned. “That would be our luck.” 

Bucky winked in response, twisting around to turn off the lamp at his bedside, enveloping both boys in pleasant darkness. He pulled the sheets up around them, pulling Steve’s arm across his middle. 

“Love you, punk.”

Steve held Bucky to him, words ardent and fading in the night air. Steve breathed them in, sweet and sincere, heart brimming with affection.

“Love you too, Buck.” 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just let them sleep, pls @SHIELD. Next chapter will be the Brooklyn Boys in Brooklyn. Old haunts, time to explore (each other) and their surroundings. Should be fun! And by fun I mean Steve's gonna have to get over his inexperience-issues and get down and dirty w/ his oldest friend and soulmate. 
> 
> Please comment if you liked it!!!! And hit up the kudos button, I'm a slut for validation!! Bookmark if you wanna see when I update!
> 
> Also come yell at me on tumblr @barcnes


	3. No Faith in Brooklyn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky arrive at their Brooklyn apartment, and receive a surprise visit from Sam. Bucky conducts some highly scientific research (A.K.A. watches gay porn).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty folks!!! Please note the change in rating. No actual smut yet, but graphic descriptions of porn and such, so be warned ;) Also, because APs have been killing me, I've split chapter 3 into two chapters, so there will be 5 chapters in total. Sorry about that! And the chapter title is a reference to a Hoodie Allen song, which has no relevance other than the "Brooklyn," but is on my writing playlist. *shrug*
> 
> Also, Bucky mentions suicide (very briefly!) towards the end!!! If that's a trigger, take precaution!

**Steve**

The dust in front of Steve’s eyes floated in and out of existence, swirling melodically in the sun’s piercing beams through the open window. Steve blinked, breaking his trance. The Brooklyn apartment was musty, smelling of wood floors, worn furniture, and tired air. It screamed _home_ . Steve had opened all of the windows in the apartment to air it out; the breeze was cool and welcome against his face. Bucky was in the kitchen area, which opened onto the main living room, putting away their groceries. The day had passed slowly, time slipping by like heated molasses – sweet, domestic and blissful. Steve smiled as he watched Bucky drop a tomato and catch it, deftly, with his metal hand. Steve walked over to the window, peering down the five-story drop at the cars moving below. Besides Bucky’s shuffling and sporadic groaning, the only sounds in the apartment were the hum of the city below and the soft swaying of the dusty curtains. Steve relished the boredom. Him and Bucky, in Brooklyn, together, home. _Feels like a dream,_ Steve mused, watching a flock of blackbirds form a loose arrow in the sky.  

Steve was examining a small crack in the window pane when a knock sounded loudly on the front door. He whipped around, brow furrowed.

Bucky swore, loudly, setting down the milk carton on the linoleum counter. “Are you serious?” He asked in the vague direction of the door. “We literally just got here. Today.” He turned back towards towards Steve, crossing his arms in annoyance. “Steve?”

Steve shrugged, walking over to check the security camera next to the bookcase. “I’m not expecting anyone.”  

 _Finally a good reason to have had this installed,_ Steve thought, tapping on the wall-mounted security screen. He flipped to the right camera angle, squinting at the darkened figure leaning against the door frame. _Sam?_ The figure knocked again, emphatically, before looking up, directly into the camera, and flipping him off. _Definitely Sam._

Bucky walked over, squinting at the screen over Steve’s shoulder. “Is that Sam?” The brunette sighed in relief. “Thought it was going to be Hill with another assignment. Thank _God_.”

Another knock sounded.

Steve turned, yelling, “Coming!”

He squeezed Bucky’s arm reassuringly before walking over to the door, old hinges groaning as he wrenched it open. He was met by Sam, who broke into toothy grin as he saw Steve.

“Hey, man,” Steve said with a surprised smile, happy to see his friend. Sam had been on mission in Europe for the past month, leading the offensive against the remaining German Hydra cells. It seemed he’d been green-lighted to return. Sam was sporting a blue t-shirt, jeans, and a particularly nasty bruise on his right arm. Steve met his eyes, grinning. _It’s been a while._ He reached out his hand, pulling Sam into a hug. They parted; Steve stepped aside, gesturing for Sam to enter.

“It’s about damn time!” Sam exclaimed, pushing past Steve and into the apartment.

Steve rolled his eyes and followed him in. “Sorry.” he gestured to the security screen. “We really weren’t expecting anyone to visit us.”

He looked around for Bucky while Sam inspected the tiny apartment. It was odd to see him, here, a man very much in his present, walking steadily into his past. It was not something he allowed to everyone. _I trust him._

“It’s not much,” Steve explained apologetically, walking over to where Sam stood looking out the open window. “But it’s really close to where we used to live. And definitely bigger than that place was.”

Sam shrugged. “It’s great, honestly,” he moved to sit down on the couch. “I’ve still got a place back home, too.”

Bucky entered the main room from the bedroom, nodding to Sam in greeting. Steve looked him over, detecting a subtle tension lacing his movements. _He’s got his hackles raised,_ Steve noted, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth.

Sam was ignorant of this, standing to greet him. “Barnes! What’s up, man?” He walked over to Bucky, shaking his hand eagerly.

Bucky returned the gesture with a small smile. “Not much.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Just taking a break, trying to hide from S.H.I.E.L.D.– the usual.”

Steve laughed, nodding. Bucky seemed annoyed at Sam’s presence, understandably, since they’d sought this time for themselves. But Sam was observant, now aware of the irritation he caused. Steve knew he wouldn’t stay long.

Sam sat down again on the couch, Bucky joining him. Steve sat beside them in their shabby, red-leather armchair.

“Sorry to barge in on you guys,” Sam apologized, looking at Bucky. He turned to Steve. “I wanted to see you before I had to head back to D.C. for debrief. I’ve got about,” he looked down at his watch, “three hours before my flight.”

Steve let out a relieved sigh, covering it with a smile. “It’s really good to see you.” He snuck a quick look at Bucky, who was distracted by something out the window. “Are you hungry?” He asked Sam, continuing, “We can go get some food, if you want. There’re some really good places around here.”

Sam nodded, brow furrowed in thought. “Yeah, sure, that’d be good.” He patted his stomach. “Haven’t eaten since this morning.” He grimaced. “They don’t feed you at all on airplanes anymore, it’s terrible.”

Bucky chuckled, turning back to Steve.

Steve smiled at him. “You in, Buck? We can take him to Defonte’s.” He angled his head towards Sam, explaining, “It’s this sandwich place; s’been around since the forties. Crazy good.”

Sam’s stomach rumbled in response. He stood, nodding emphatically. “You had me at sandwich. Let’s go.”

Steve stood with him, patting his pockets in search of his wallet. He was excited to finally go out into the city, already beginning to smell the sweet, enticing greasiness of grilled sausage. But Bucky remained seated.

Steve frowned. “Buck? You coming?”

Bucky shrugged apologetically. “I’m good here.” He rolled his eyes at Steve’s immediately panicked expression. “Steve. Seriously. I’m fine. I’ve just got some stuff to do.”

Steve’s mind raced, flipping through scenarios like channels on a television. _What stuff?_ His brain hummed in alarm. _Should I have made Sam leave? Is he mad?_

His breathing became increasingly rapid, and Bucky read him like a book. A picture book, even. “I’m not mad, Stevie.” He smiled, meeting Steve’s gaze. “I do have stuff to do.” He gestured to Sam. “Go have fun.”

Steve wasn’t convinced, but nodded slowly. “Okay,” he conceded, perching on the couch beside Bucky, “We’ll be back soon. Sorry.”

He leaned in to press a quick kiss to Bucky’s cheek. Sam saw, shooting Steve a perplexed look, eyes growing wide.

“Well,” Sam began, “I guess we’re gonna have a lot to talk about, Cap.” Steve reddened immediately, face hot. Sam laughed, beckoning him towards the door. “C’mon. These sandwiches aren’t gonna eat themselves.” He inclined his head towards Bucky. “Barnes,” he said, shooting him a knowing wink in farewell.

 

**Bucky**

Once Sam and Steve had left, Bucky practically dove for his laptop. Sam’s arrival had been a blessing in disguise. Steve refused to leave him alone unless there was a good reason to, and that reason had to be a world-emergency level or he’d never leave. _He acts like I’m a newborn bear cub, sometimes. Or made of glass. A... glass bear cub?_

Well, in fairness, it wasn’t like Bucky was chomping at the bit to leave Steve. They’d become each other’s anchors, tethering one another to reality, to the present. To their past. _To sanity._

But, Bucky had to do some “research,” and the “research” in question was best done sans Steve.

 _Alright, I’ve got,_ he squinted at the time in the corner of the screen, _about an hour to figure this shit out._ He sat back on the couch, ancient wood creaking beneath him as he propped up his feet on the coffee table. He opened a new browser, making sure his I.P. and history was untraceable and untrackable. _Okay, what now?_ He bit his lip, fiddling with the thin glove on his metal hand, which he donned when he needed to use a touchscreen. Unsurprisingly, Hydra hasn’t intended the cybernetic arm for casual touch-pad use.

“Those fuckers,” grumbled Bucky, realizing he had put the wrong glove on his metal hand; his thumb bulged cartoonishly in the place allotted for the pinky finger. He fixed it with a groan.

 _Back to work._ His fingers hovered over the keypad, brow furrowed. _Uh,_ he began to type cautiously into the search bar, ‘gay sex’, _no, um,_ his face reddened, deleting it, ‘gay porn,’ _maybe?_ He hit enter, heart beating rapidly. _Calm down, you complete child,_ he chided, forcing himself to look at the search results. _PornHub? Should’ve guessed._ He clicked on the link. The page loaded slowly; Bucky watched, swallowing roughly, as variously positioned naked bodies appeared on the screen. He wanted to look away, avert his eyes, give the men on the site some… privacy? He was still so new to this, still old fashioned, uncomfortable with the exhibitionism that dominated popular culture.

 _Hooker Stories?_ Bucky scrolled lower. _Raw sperm holes?_ He grimaced, looking away. _Ew, God, I just want normal sex,_ he insisted, scrolling lower. _Virgin porn?_ He felt uncomfortable typing it into the search bar, but did so nonetheless. He clicked on the first video that came up. _Virgin Takes it Hard._ The music began sharply, Bucky jumped in surprise, turning down the volume.

 _Shit, Stevie,_ he thought, as if Steve could hear him, _I just want to make sure we do it right, you know?_ He watched the two men in the video kiss on the couch, both naked. _Oh, God, you’re both somebody’s children,_ he groaned, internally, redness creeping up his neck in embarrassment.  One of them, the slim blonde, slid down to kneel on the floor, face between the other’s legs. Bucky knew what was coming, he wasn’t a virgin after all, having had many sultry night moaning a girl’s name while her lips worked him slowly apart. But this was different. He wanted to do it for Steve. _Well, I think I do,_ Bucky questioned, watching the blonde actor take the more muscular man’s cock in his mouth.   _How the fuck is he not choking?_ Bucky glared at the screen. _Virgin, my ass._ The larger man began to thrust into the blonde’s open mouth, spit dribbling his mouth and down his shaven chin, with high-pitched, dramatic moans. He looked away. _Ugh, God, definitely not romantic._

He laughed uncomfortably, sound hollow and bold against the empty apartment walls. _If only the world could see the Winter Soldier now,_ he mused. _Not so scary after all._

But Bucky himself was scared. He felt young, inexperienced, naive. He hated it. Being with Steve was like prostrating yourself against the gates of heaven–terrifying and euphoric–while you bleed on the steps, praying you’re worthy. _Of him,_ Bucky thought. _I want to be good enough for him._ He turned back towards the screen. The two men had changed positions, blonde now kneeling on the couch with his back towards the brunette, back arched sensually as the larger man spread his cheeks, exposing his hole. _I should not be watching this._ The camera zoomed in on his exposed ass, shaven and unnaturally smooth, _like Steve, probably,_ he chuckled, again sounding awkward and stark in the empty air. The brunette leaned in, flicking his tongue on the blonde’s puckered entrance, slipping it inside, slightly, as the slighter man moaned. Bucky grimaced. _What?_ He’d done that to a girl a few times, but to a guy? _Is that even sanitary? Wouldn’t it taste like…?_ He felt nauseous. _Oh, God._ He couldn’t imagine it felt good.

“Okay, that’s enough,” he announced to the empty apartment, closing all incriminating windows and shutting his laptop. Even for what he liked to refer to as a “tactical mission,” it was too much. _I’m ninety years old, and an assassin; this is ridiculous._ He rested his head back against the old couch cushion, closing his eyes against the fading afternoon light, trying to scrub what he’d just witnessed out of his memory.

 _We haven’t even made out, yet._ Maybe Bucky was jumping ahead of himself. _Would it even feel good? Having something… inside me?_ He felt like such a virgin, like he was sixteen on his prom night, afraid he wouldn’t be able to get it up for his date after the dance. _Fuck._ He ran a hand through his hair. _Steve’s never done it either,_ he thought in comfort, _he won’t care._

He’d stopped the video before the “good” part, before the blonde “virgin” could lose his obviously long gone virginity, but Bucky was wasn’t so chaste–he knew what came next. _Fingering, lot’s of lube, and then, yeah..._

The porn didn’t do much for him. He only felt aroused when he thought about doing it with Steve, whose skin he knew as well as his own. His best friend. It was odd, imagining these things now. Before it had been fantasy, so deep in the caverns of Bucky’s mind that it had only been excavated recently. There was no one else he’d rather bare himself to, no one else that could love him, broken glass and all. _I don’t deserve him._ Bucky’s skin tingled, breeze wafting over from the window, settling on his exposed forearms. Goosebumps spread across his right arm, speckling it tiny, cold ridges. The sounds of Brooklyn, his home, drifted in like the wind, enveloping him in soft cacophony. Only here was the discord he felt within hushed, momentarily caught up in the whirl and pulse of New York. _I want to deserve him._

Bucky opened his eyes, blinded for a moment by the brightness of the room. _I love him,_ he affirmed, smiling sadly, _I love him_ _so fucking much._ It filled his heart with a constant warmth, pulsing through his veins like blood, as necessary as the air he breathed. He’d been cold, so fucking cold, before he’d returned. _A corpse,_ he mused, groaning as he stood from the couch. He stretched his right shoulder, peering out the window, before wandering over to the nearby bookcase. The dark mahogany was covered in a layer of dust. Bucky ran his finger along the swirls of wood, collecting the grayish grime as he went. Perched atop the case were some mementos, framed copies of photos from their past. _Practically fossils, now._ Steve had gotten approval from the Smithsonian to have prints made of some of the pictures recovered from his youth, mostly of him and Bucky. Steve had had them made far before Bucky had returned, before he’d ever heard the words “Winter Soldier.”   _I don’t know what I’d’ve done without him._ He frowned, running a finger down Steve’s forged likeness, smiling beside Bucky himself, a day or two after his rescue from Hydra. _I’d probably’ve jumped off the nearest bridge._

Being with Steve gave Bucky a purpose. It was Bucky’s job to protect him. It had always been Bucky’s job, ever since he’d broken the nose of some thug picking on Steve in elementary school. He’d been ten, scrappy and scared of confrontation, but seeing Steve on the ground, bruised, had awoken a fury in him, tinging his world in a violent red. After that they were inseparable. Steve was so passionate, even then, intrinsically bound with a moral compass far heavier than his skinny body suggested. Bucky basked in his light, which shined through illness and pain and gore. _Even now._

He smiled shyly, turning away from the bookcase. For some reason, Steve Rogers, Captain America, the _world’s mightiest hero,_ loved him. Even after all they’d been through. _All I’ve put him through_. After losing each other, and home, and themselves.

Bucky looked down at his left arm, watching the metal plates rotate and slide synchronically as he clenched and unclenched his fist. It was graceful, even, lithe rather than crude. It had brought him back to Steve. Maybe the universe did care about Bucky Barnes. _Maybe everything’s gonna be okay,_ he deigned to hope, believing it, fully, for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those aren't tears in my eyes, it's just raining. Indoors. Ugh :')


	4. Hold Onto Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Sam go to lunch. Sam has some choice words for Steve about his relationship with Bucky. Steve and Bucky reminisce about their youth, and try to make up for lost time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feeeeeeelings are gonna happen. Yikes. Also, after watching Civil War and loving Sam and Bucky's dynamic, I didn't want Sam to be a-okay with their relationship. There's some distrust there that's interesting to explore. Anyway, hope you enjoy!! Lots of hugs, too. There were far too few hugs in CW.

**Steve**

Steve’s empty stomach grumbled, inaudible in the noisy, bustling restaurant. The air was filled with muffled clangs from the kitchen, cooks shouting orders, and heartily conversing diners. It was a beautiful dissonant melody, reminding Steve of easy days when he and Bucky would sit, laughter adding to the discord, on soft, summer nights when money wasn’t so tight. _ It’s good to be back,  _ Steve thought, walking with Sam over to an empty table. The greasy smell of sausage and peppers emanated enticingly from the plate in Steve’s hand as they sat down on the checkered green cushioned seats.

Sam groaned, placing his plate down with a reverence fit for his extreme hunger. “So,” he began, “the elephant in the room.”  

Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah…” 

Sam took a bite of his sandwich, gesturing for Steve to do the same. He chewed slowly, face scrunched slightly in thought. “Alright,” Sam continued after swallowing, “I’ve got some questions. When did it start? And was is it, exactly?”  

Steve chewed a moment, took a sip of coke, and swallowed, before responding, “A week ago, maybe?” Sam shot him a disbelieving look. “I’m serious! Should have been a while ago, I, uh, wanted it before, so did he, I think, but, you know…” Steve rambled, reddening “It, uh, hasn’t exactly been easy.” 

Sam nodded. “Okay. I mean, I’m not surprised. I know how much you love him.” Steve smiled. Sam continued, “But is it dating? Is it just him, or all dudes? Have you always loved him, like this? He dated girls, right? Back in the day?” Sam laughed, shaking his head. “Sorry, don’t mean to interrogate you, Steve. It’s just a lot.” 

Steve chuckled, biting his lip. “It’s okay. I’m still kind of shocked by it, too. I, uh,” he took another swig of coke, “don’t think we’re dating. We’ve never actually been on a date, so?” Steve’s brow furrowed. “That feels too simple, after everything. And it’s just him, I think. I’m not really in a rush to label it.”

Sam shrugged, took another bite, and swallowed. “That’s good. I mean, it makes sense for you, man. You’ve always liked people for who they are, rather than what they look like.” 

Steve nodded, leaning his elbows on the table. The warmth of the sun settled gently on their faces through the window, casting them in a soft glow. Steve sat forward. “Yeah, no, you’re right. And he did date girls. But he said he never felt anything for them,” Steve remembered, reaching down to pick up a fallen pepper, putting it in his mouth. “Could be he was trying to make me feel better, though.”

“I doubt it,” Sam contested, wiping his hand on the white napkin beside his plate. “He loves you. A lot. He may be annoying as fuck sometimes, but he does love you.” 

Steve chuckled. “You both just have similar personalities.” Sam raised his brows in question. “ _ Stubbornness _ ,” Steve specified, grinning. Sam grumbled indignantly. 

“Well, fine, you’re not wrong, man,” Sam conceded, rolling his eyes. 

“So...” Sam continued. 

“Um...” Steve started in tandem, breaking off. “Oh, sorry,” he laughed, “you go.”

Sam took a deep breath, frowning. He looked down at the table cloth, refusing to meet Steve’s gaze. Anxiety spiked Steve’s chest, sharp and hot, as he tried to read Sam’s expression.

Sam sighed, looking up, as if  he’d persuaded himself to verbalize whatever thoughts plagued his mind.

“Steve,” he began, pursing his lips in what seemed to be apology, “look, I, um – you know how much I care about you.” Steve nodded cautiously. Sam squeezed his eyes shut, continuing, “I just – I think this is a bad idea.” 

Steve exhaled sharply, tension tightening his face in stormy disbelief. He crossed his arms defensively, thinking, _bad idea? Maybe. I can’t just... it’s not that easy, it’s bad, but, I can’t,_ the thoughts were wild, a tempest within him, _I can’t leave him,_ _not now… he has to, he needs to understand._

Sam placed his hands on the table: a peace offering, dissuasive, reassuring.    __

“I’m sorry, man. I know this is hard to hear. But, Steve, you have to realize how dangerous this is. How dangerous  _ he _ is. We barely know how stable his mental state is. And he tried to kill us. Multiple times. Sure, it’s good now, but you don’t know how long it’s gonna stay that way. He could snap. He could hurt you. Physically  _ and _ emotionally. Getting too invested, too attached is the last thing you should be doing.” Sam’s face softened. “Look, I’m sorry. I know how much you love him. You just, you know,” he shrugged, “don’t think clearly when it comes to him.”

It was cloudy, now, sun replaced by a dark grey shadow. It had begun to rain, droplets sprinkling down softly on the asphalt. Steve’s face felt cold. He looked away from Sam and out the window, watching the rain droplets’ agitated dance down the window. He watched, entranced, as two droplets intertwined and slipped off the glass pane as one.  _ A silent suicide,  _ he mused. 

“Steve,” Sam said gently, snapping him to attention. 

Steve met his gaze – eyes guarded, cloudy. “I, uh,” he rubbed his hands down his face, donning a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re right.” His words were bitter, tired. “It’s stupid, being with him. Selfish, probably. Sam, I – ” his hands shook, “I can’t not be with him. After everything we’ve been through. Even if it ends badly. I’ll take it. I don’t care.”

Sam smiled, nodding his head in reluctant acceptance.  “I know, man. Really.” He shrugged. “Had to try. S’my job.” Sam met his gaze in vague disbelief. “Is Bucky really worth it?”

Steve nodded, chest filled with an inexplicable fervency. “Yeah, yeah he is.” 

 

**Bucky**

 

The worn fabric of the old couch felt almost luxurious against Bucky’s calloused hands. He was on his phone, flipping through possible dinner recipes, as he waited for Steve to return. Neither of them were very good cooks, but now that they had money, they made a point to at least  _ attempt _ to make things from scratch. He scratched his chin.  _ Baked ziti? We could do that. There’re only four steps, how could we fuck it up?  _ Bucky chuckled, sound dousing the empty room.  _ Pretty easily, I think _ . 

It was nice, the ease at which he sat, biding his time with sweet mundanity. It was almost more exotic than their overseas missions. The Winter Soldier, infamous assassin, trying to figure out if he could make pasta. There was beauty in simplicity, he’d realized. Beauty in boredom. 

Bucky watched through the window as a lone raven glided along the the skyline, marring the sky with its defiant blackness. It swooped lower, grazing the brick, before climbing higher and higher, toward the clouded sun. Bucky blinked, reminded of a story he’d read in grade school.  _ Icarus _ , he remembered, squinting through the sunlight. When the clouds returned and his eyes adjusted, the bird was gone. 

A knock sounded, followed by the creaking of door hinges, breaking him from his reverie. He whipped his head around, grinning. It was the same dumb look he wore whenever Steve he saw Steve. _You’re_ _a frickin’ lovesick puppy,_ he chided, still smiling. 

“Stevie!” He announced, standing and bounding over to the open door. Steve entered the apartment, blue eyes downcast. A chill crept along Bucky’s skull.  _ Something’s wrong _ . He advanced, wary, towards Steve’s boneless form, propped against the wall. “Hey…” Bucky murmured, taking Steve’s hand in his own, “so lunch was…?” 

Steve pulled Bucky toward him, enveloping him in a fierce hug. Bucky molded against him, whispering endearments as he rubbed his back. 

“That good, huh?” Bucky asked, squeezing Steve’s trembling form. “Shh, Stevie, it’s okay, it’s okay.” Bucky’s heart clenched painfully against his ribs.  _ Sam must’ve said something,  _ Bucky thought.  _ He’s not my biggest fan.  _

Steve pulled away from their embrace, eyes dull, misty. Bucky kept his hands on Steve’s waist with a reassuring pressure. He felt a pang of annoyance towards Sam for making Steve feel this way, whatever was said. Steve didn’t deserve it. _ If he should yell at anyone, it should be me, _ Bucky affirmed silently, reading Steve’s pained expression. 

Steve let out a deep breath, gaze pointed downward, avoiding Bucky’s scrutiny. He bit his lip. “He said what I knew he was going to say,” Steve explained dejectedly, “I just wasn’t ready to hear it.” 

Bucky furrowed his brow, rubbing his hands up and down Steve’s sides. “What did he say?” He murmured, words bitter on his tongue.

Steve scratched at his neck nervously, meeting Bucky’s gaze. “That this,” he gestured to their bodies, “is a bad idea.  _ Dangerous _ .” He shrugged, smiling sadly. “He’s not wrong, Buck.” 

Bucky looked away, directing his glare towards the wall. The green paint was cracked, chipping, ugly. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to control his breathing. His face felt warm, his chest cold. His hands shook where they held Steve’s waist.  _ Keep it together,  _ he warned, unable to meet Steve’s gaze.  _ Don’t fucking cry.  _ He dropped his hands, metal once warmed by Steve’s skin now turning cool. The metallic chill crept along the arm and into his chest, settling there with a barbed indifference. Bucky laughed, hollow and raw against the lump in his throat. 

Steve made a small anguished sound, pulling Bucky back to face him. “Bucky, no. I – ” his face was scrunched in regret, “Don’t care. I don’t care if he’s right. It doesn’t matter. You matter more than anything.” Steve’s face was wet, eyes red. “I love you so much, Buck. Nothing is ever going to change that.” He pulled Bucky into a hug more fervent than the last, whispering into the crook of his neck, “I promise.”

Bucky held him back fiercely, his chest slowly thawing. He relaxed into the embrace, letting out a long-held breath. “I love you, too.” 

Steve leaned back, wiping the tears from his face. A genuine smile lit his face. “This is definitely  _ not  _ how I imagined the day going,” he chuckled. “Some vacation, huh?” 

Bucky checked the clock. “It’s only five,” he said, wrapping his arms around Steve’s neck. “The day’s still young.” In this position he felt small, safe, protected by Steve’s new size. Steve grinned, putting his arms around Bucky, hands finding purchase on his lower back. Bucky would never admit it, but he loved being held. He loved the feeling of his skin against Steve’s – indulgent, selfish, and blissful. 

Steve wet his lips, gazing intently at Bucky. The storm had passed through his eyes – now bright; the salt tears had dried on his cheeks. His expression was warm, loving, intent, as if Bucky was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. 

“Did you eat?” Steve asked, as Bucky rubbed his hands through the short hairs on the back his neck. Steve shivered into the touch.

“Yeah,” he replied, “I had one of those frozen meals. Delicious.” 

Steve grimaced. “That’s not eating, Buck. Those things are an insult to food.” 

Bucky laughed, throwing his head back. He gazed at Steve, smirking. “S’okay. We can eat later.” He didn’t want to move, enjoying the warmth and constancy of Steve’s hands against his waist. 

Steve moved closer, pressing his body along the hard lines of Bucky’s. “So, what do you want to do?” He murmured, voice low.

Bucky bit his lip, face inches from Steve’s. “Whatever you want, pal.” 

Steve tilted his head forward, resting his forehead against Bucky’s. His eyes were open, searching as he gazed into the blue depths of Bucky’s eyes. “Do you wanna, just, relax for a bit?” He asked softly. “I really wanna keep holding you…” 

Bucky nodded, pulling his head away from Steve’s. He adjusted his arms around Steve’s neck, reddening slightly. “Ditto.” He laughed. “Couch, maybe? There’s probably a game on.” 

Steve rubbed his hands across the muscled expanse of Bucky’s back, eliciting a sigh from Bucky in response. “Okay,” Steve agreed, frowning. “That means we have to move.” 

_ No,  _ Bucky thought petulantly, indulging himself in the sweet, familiar feeling of Steve against him. Steve was soft in a way that muted the jagged remains of Bucky’s heart, providing a safety that almost made him feel whole. In Steve’s arms he was healed. In Steve’s arms he was human. 

Bucky groaned, tightening his hold around Steve’s neck. “I  _ know _ .” He frowned, leaning possessively into the embrace. 

Steve smiled fondly, adjusting his arms around Bucky so that he could hold him even tighter against his chest. He winked. “I could carry you to the couch…” He trailed off, smirking.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Don’t you  _ dare _ , Rogers.” Steve chuckled. Bucky shoved him off playfully, adding, “‘M still not some dame.” 

Steve laughed, grabbing Bucky’s hands as he moved away. “Never said you were.” He smiled. “C’mon,” he stepped forward, pulling Bucky towards the couch. “I’ll turn the game on.” 

Steve and Bucky collapsed on the couch as Steve reached for the remote. They both propped their feet up on the scratched coffee table, old wooden joints groaning in protest. Steve reached for the remote, flipping the TV on to the baseball game. He settled back against the couch cushions, shifting down so his head rested gently on Bucky’s metal shoulder. 

Bucky eyed him in utter adoration, the sight of Steve’s trusting body filling him with so much passion he feared he might burst. Instead, he nosed Steve’s hair, smelling the bright floral notes of his shampoo combined with a sun-warmed earthiness he’d collected outside. It filled Bucky’s nose with a beautiful ease, quieting his thoughts. He put his left arm around Steve’s soft, drowsing form, finding mundane asylum in the their intertwining breaths and coalescing heartbeats. The sounds of the baseball game faded to black as Steve and Bucky sat together, dosing off. 

Seconds spun into minutes spun into hours, punctuated only by heartbeats and soft exhales. In the sultry fading of the afternoon light Bucky awoke, Steve still at his side. Bucky adjusted his arm around him, sighing contentedly. Steve’s face was squished adorably against Bucky’s shoulder, breath steady, face smoothed by sleep. The word “exotic” came to his mind again as he gazed at Steve.  _ Captain America doesn’t get time off,  _ he thought, tightening his hold around Steve,  _ but Steve Rogers should.  _ Steve was only human, he needed time to himself like everyone else. And he trusted Bucky to see him like this – fragile, bare, young. Bucky leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on Steve’s temple. Steve lifted his head up slightly, meeting wakefulness with a wide yawn. 

He turned to look up at Bucky. “Hey.”

Bucky pulled him up so they were both at eye level. “Hey yourself.”

Steve smiled groggily, turning to look at the time. It was six-thirty. Steve swore. “Sorry.” He turned back, eyebrows scrunched in apology. “Didn’t mean to sleep so long.”

Bucky shook his head. “I just woke up. S’good for you,” Bucky responded candidly. “You don’t get nearly enough rest, Stevie.” 

Steve rolled his eyes, not wanting accept an error so central to his job, but held his tongue. “You’re right,” he conceded, smoothing out Bucky’s shirt where his head had wrinkled it. “What am I gonna do, though, Buck?” He brushed a stray lock of Bucky’s hair behind his ear. “It’s what I signed up for.”

Bucky grabbed his hand, holding in in his own. “ _ Seventy _ years ago. I think your contract’s expired, bud.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Steve squeezed Bucky’s hand, looking down at their entwined fingers. “I think it lasts as long as I’ve got this body, Buck.” He met Bucky’s gaze, eyes wistful. “You know what this reminds me of?” He gestured to the tangle of their legs on the coffee table. Bucky shrugged. Steve smiled, eyes distant, remembering. “Coney Island. When we were in high school. Couple years before we enlisted? I think it was summer. Anyway,” Steve continued, with a faraway smile, “We were on a bench by the beach, right before we were gonna take the subway home. It was late, I think, getting pretty dark. We were watching the seagulls look for food before the sun set.” 

Bucky closed his eyes, recalling the distant breeze of the beach against his face, watching the seagulls twirl above the crashing waves. And Steve, snug against him, because, of course, he was cold, but refused to accept Bucky’s sweater. He remembered the sweet smell of cotton candy mixed with the cloying saltiness of the water. He remembered Steve’s face, painted with the pinks and yellows of the setting sun – exquisite and intangible and infuriating. The world in that moment had felt so free, so open with possibilities. Bucky had felt like he could fly.  _ I wanted to kiss him,  _ he realized, deep within the memory,  _ thought it was the fair food making me nuts, but it was real. _

“I was freezing,” Steve admitted, “but I wouldn’t let you give me your coat. I was so stubborn.” He laughed. “I think I was just extra touchy about it. You looked so good. You’d just gotten your hair cut and you were wearing that collared shirt your mom’d gotten you for your birthday. I remember feeling weird, thinkin’ that stuff about you. And you offering me your coat, well,” he chuckled, “that was too much.” Steve paused, gazing at Bucky with disbelief, as he couldn’t believe that they were here, now, together. “On that bench, I, uh, wanted to kiss you. I think.” Steve knitted his eyebrows in thought. “Well, I don’t think I knew what I wanted. I was so confused.”

Bucky laughed, shaking his head. Steve cocked his head. “What?”

“I wanted to kiss you too.”

Steve’s eyes widened incredulously. He rolled his eyes, chuckling, “ _ God _ , we were idiots.”

Bucky nodded, running a hand along Steve’s jaw, relishing in their proximity. He batted his eyes, asking with a flirty bravado, “Still want to kiss me, Stevie?”

Steve winked, leaning his head against Bucky’s hand. He then pulled away, sighing dramatically. “Eh, it’s been a while,” Steve shrugged, smirking, “I think the moment’s past.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, reaching his hand behind Steve’s head. “Shut up and c’mere.”

Their lips met headily, messily, both caught up in the salt-kissed memory of their youth. There was an urgency in their movements, as if they were afraid the moment would fade, setting like the sun. Steve made a small noise in the back of his throat, reaching around to grab at Bucky’s waist. They kissed, closed-mouthed and enraptured, until Bucky sought more depth, poking his tongue along Steve’s lips. His mind was aflame, bursting in wild fits of color and sound. He was anchored only by his mouth against Steve’s, the epicenter of his inward tempest. Steve groaned and parted his lips, allowing Bucky to lick into his mouth. His heart was a beating drum, steady sound filling his brain, masking his fear. 

Their tongues danced hurriedly, boldly, as if making up for years of lost time. Bucky rubbed his hand through the short hair on Steve’s neck, pulling him closer. Steve moaned, teeth grazing Bucky’s bottom lip. In what was surely an aroused bout of confidence, Steve bit Bucky’s bottom lip sharply, eliciting a surprised moan from the brunette. 

Bucky smiled against Steve’s mouth. He chuckled slightly, leaning back. “ _ That’s _ how it should’ve ended.”

Steve nodded, smiling, face flushed. His lips were red, wet, eyes dark with arousal. He was the most beautiful thing Bucky had ever seen. Steve made a needy sound, leaning in, meeting Bucky’s lips again in response. Steve's hands searched along his waist, reaching under his shirt to explore the warm expanse of his back.  

Bucky yelped, shocked by the cold of his hands, and jerked away. 

Steve furrowed his brow, dropping his hand immediately from under Bucky’s shirt. “Shoot, sorry,” he reddened, “I, uh,” he bit his lip, “didn’t mean to take it farther than you, uh, wanted.” 

Bucky shook his head.  _ There’s the insecurity. _ “No, you punk, your hands are cold.” He grabbed Steve’s right hand, rubbing it reassuringly. Steve let out a relieved breath, mouth turning up at the corners in a small smile. They gazed at each other, eyes so full of fervor, and yet so afraid.  So  _ what do we do, now? _ He wondered.  _ Does he want to go further?  _

His heart beat rapidly against his ribs, room beginning to feel stuffy. There was a pregnant pause as he waited for Steve to break the silence.  _ Oh, fuck it. _

“Do you wanna, maybe, uh,” Bucky laughed nervously, “take this to the bedroom? Only if you want to!” He began to backtrack, embarrassed words falling quickly out of his mouth. “I mean, well, this couch isn’t the most comfortable, right? And we can, do whatever, like cuddle or nap some more or something, or nothing, Stevie, I mean, whatever – ” 

“Bucky,” Steve cut in, smirking, “yes. Stop bein’ such a jerk. Of course I want to.” 

Bucky grinned, playing with Steve’s fingers. “Then let’s go.” 

They stood, both smiling stupidly, hearts beating in nervous tandem. Bucky led Steve by the hand towards the bedroom. His hand was sweating, hot and sticky against Steve’s. His mind was buzzing, spinning like a cyclone.  _ This is the point of no return,  _ he thought, taking a deep, readying breath. His hand grasped the doorknob. _ Well, at least we’re jumping off this precipice together.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg the bedroom ;) Chapter 5 is gonna be a hoot. They're both so scared. And pretty inexperienced. And ninety. 
> 
> Also, food for thought, is Bucky Icarus? Is Steve his sun? Has he flown too close? Will he fall? I guess you'll have to wait and see...


	5. The Precipice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I present to you: smut. In all it's awkward, fantastical beauty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there, kiddos. Yes, I updated. No, I haven't forgotten about this story. THIS is what you've been waitin' for.

**Steve**

They made it to the bed in one piece, both collapsing onto the worn mattress in a soft tangle of limbs. It was dark outside, save for the waning moon, which cast the room in a ghostly light. Steve turned to flip on his lamp, illuminating Bucky’s face beside him. Bucky stretched his arms up, groaning as the tension was released from his shoulders.

He looked at Steve, grinning. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” was Steve’s articulate response, as he propped himself up on his elbow. Bucky chuckled and Steve looked down, avoiding Bucky’s gaze. He fiddled with the hem of his shirt nervously, face hot under Bucky’s scrutiny. _I can throw a twelve-pound shield at ninety-five miles per hour and hit multiple men at ninety-degree angles, and yet I can’t handle having someone in my bed._ He took a deep breath. _Not_ someone _. Bucky._

“So, you, uh,” Steve smoothed out his shirt, looking down, “come here often?”

Bucky laughed, pinching the bridge of his nose in disbelief. “Oh, God, Steve, you’re _so_ bad at this.”

Steve chuckled in embarrassment, closing his eyes as his cheeks turned pink. “I’m sorry. You know I’m new to,” he gestured to their bodies, “all this.”

Bucky reached out, tilting Steve’s face up. Reluctantly, Steve opened his eyes. “Stevie, stop,” Bucky brushed a finger along Steve’s cheekbone, smiling, “I don’t care. You know that. I’m freaked out, too.” He laughed. “We don’t have to do anything. We can just talk, if you want. Whatever we do, we’ve just gotta trust each other.”

Steve nodded, holding Bucky’s hand in his own. Bucky’s face was open, imploring; his hand was soft, calloused, familiar. Steve let out long-held breath. “I trust you. I just don’t,” he chuckled, “know why I get so nervous about it. There’s no one else I’d rather do these kinds of things with.” He couldn’t even say the words. _Keep it together, Rogers,_ he chided.

“Well, me too, pal.” Bucky smirked. “Even if you are a hundred-year-old virgin.”

Steve scoffed indignantly, rolling his eyes. “You know you like it.”

“I know I like you,” Bucky responded, pushing Steve onto his back and climbing on top of him. He put his hands on opposite sides of Steve’s head, leaning his face down so they were inches apart. Steve heart thudded painfully against his ribcage, eyes guarded as he met Bucky’s heated gaze. “Too much?” Bucky whispered, nuzzling Steve’s neck. 

Steve brought his hands up to hold Bucky’s waist, pushing him off so they were parallel, face-to-face on the bed. Bucky raised his eyebrows in question. “I like this better,” Steve explained, rubbing his hand along Bucky’s side. “And you’re really heavy.”

Bucky smiled, reaching out his metal arm to bring Steve’s face closer. “You’re such a complete punk, you know that, Stevie?” Bucky asked, before meeting Steve’s lips in a soft kiss.

Steve smiled against his mouth, pushing Bucky back gently and placing his hands in a frame around Bucky’s face. Bucky’s chest trembled with laughter as they continued to kiss, Steve propped up above him. “Taking control, eh?” Bucky mumbled against his mouth, fisting Steve’s shirt and pulling him closer.

“Well, I mean, I _am_ a captain,” Steve responded, kissing along Bucky’s jaw. His lips burned where they touched Bucky’s skin, intense and addicting. The warmth spread throughout his body ardently, settling in his groin. Bucky chuckled breathlessly, turning to meet Steve’s mouth with his own.

He sucked on Steve’s lower lip, lightly grazing it with his teeth, before licking greedily into his mouth. Steve groaned, low in his throat, pressing his legs against Bucky’s thigh. Steve gasped at the friction, turning red at the needy sounds he elicited. Bucky kissed him back, hard, reassuring, as he reached his arms around Steve, rucking up his shirt to feel his straining back.

“Can I…?” Bucky  held the edge of Steve’s shirt in his hands, heat-flushed face inches from Steve’s.

Steve nodded, swallowing, as Bucky lifted his shirt over his head. He felt exposed, bare, uncomfortably naked. Bucky’s hands danced across his back, soft and searching, as if he was mapping Steve’s skin with his hands.

“You’re beautiful,” Bucky whispered, nudging Steve’s waist with his hands in an effort to push him over. “Wanna look at you,” he explained, biting his lip.

Steve smiled and moved onto his back, body alive with energy and arousal. It felt like every cell in his body had been struck by lightning, like he was a firework, exploding into a million different colors. His hands trembled.

“Stevie,” Bucky murmured, picking up his left hand and ghosting his lips over its back, “Is this okay?” His brow was furrowed, worry lacing his movements.

 _Of course it’s okay, I’m just, overwhelmed, I want you, Bucky, fuck, I want you so, so badly, please._ Steve’s mind raced ahead of his tongue, too high on lust for articulation. Instead, he reached out, grabbing Bucky and pulling him down to meet his lips.

Bucky leaned away, shaking his head. “I need words, pal. We’ve gotta communicate.” He rubbed his hand along Steve’s bare arm, goosebumps forming in its wake. “Don’t want you to regret any of this.”

Steve laughed, holding Bucky’s hands as he took long, deep breaths. “I got so caught up in it, Buck. _Wow_.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Who knew this stuff was so addicting?”

Bucky chuckled, cupping Steve’s chin in his hand affectionately. “Literally everyone, Stevie. That’s why people have sex. It feels good.”

Steve turned pink, dropping Bucky’s hand and sitting up. “I don’t-- I mean, we’re not, uh-- I’m not ready--”

“No, no, Steve,” Bucky interrupted him, face scrunched in concern, “I know. That’s not what I meant. _Fuck_ , sorry.” He closed his eyes, embarrassed. “Don’t worry, we’re, uh, not gonna have sex tonight. Or ever, if you want.” He exhaled, opening his eyes. He picked up Steve’s hand, holding it protectively. “We probably should’a said that at the beginning. _Fuck._ Communication. We’ve gotta do better.”  

Steve nodded, sitting up and pulling his knees to his chest, steadying himself after the immense high. _This is the exact opposite of keeping it together._ “You're right.” He rested his head against the headboard as Bucky moved to sit in front of him on the bed. Steve shot him a small, reassuring smile. “We've got time now, if you want.”

“Okay.” Bucky smiled, rubbing his hands down Steve’s clothed knees. “Uh,” he averted his gaze, abashed, “Sex, like ever? It’s okay if that’s a no.”

Steve laughed, moving out of the defensive upright fetal position he’s assumed and crossing his legs. “Yeah, I want to. Eventually. I mean, I think i’m ready to try other stuff. Just not, you know,” he reddened, “the whole way.”

Bucky nodded, eyes searching Steve’s face carefully. _If we keep treating each other like glass we’re both gonna break,_ Steve mused, meeting his eyes. Steve’s chest felt tight, brain hunting for the right question, right answer, right _anything._ He took a deep breath. “Since coming back, have you, uh, touched, um, have you wanted to, like--”

Bucky cut short Steve’s babbling with a laugh. “Yeah, I, uh,” he broke out into laughter again, “Fuck. This is so uncomfortable. Talking about this with you,” he shook his head, long hair falling across his reddened face, “But, yeah, I mean, I have done some, uh, ‘self-love’ while I’ve been back. Only while I was back with you, though. Not before.” He looked up at Steve. “What about you?”

Steve looked away, face warm, distracting himself with the moon. He thought for a moment, then turned back to face Bucky. “Once in awhile. It always made me feel lonelier, somehow.” He smiled wistfully. “Would just remind me of that time you taught me how to do it. Remember?”

Bucky chuckled, nodding. “Yeah. We were like fifteen, right? You were sleeping at my house or something and woke up really hard.” Steve put his head in his hands, embarrassed by the memory.

“Oh God. I was so scared. Thought I was dying.” He grimaced ashamedly. “Then you were all ‘It’s nothin’, Stevie’ and gave me instructions from outside the bathroom door.”

Bucky laughed, face alive with the absurdity of the memory. “I’m pretty sure my parents heard the whole thing, too.”

Steve groaned, dropping his head to his chest. “So that’s why they were so stiff and awkward at breakfast. _Bucky.”_ He shook his head, embarrassed, feeling fifteen again under Bucky’s mirthful gaze.

“S’okay, Steve,” He squeezed his knee, “they’re extremely dead anyway.” Bucky shrugged, cocking his head as he scanned Steve’s face. “S’just us now.”

Steve furrowed his brow, meeting Bucky’s gaze with apprehension. “Yeah. It’s weird. Never gets less weird.” Bucky laughed softly, eyes distant, guarded. Steve’s gut wrenched. He leaned forward, sitting up on his knees to reach his face. “Buck, I just, I--” his chest tightened sharply, “I want you to know you’re never going to be alone again. I’ll always be here. Through everything. I’m never letting go, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, you said that the last time.” Bucky’s sardonic tone grated harshly against Steve’s ears. He noticed the concern in Steve’s eyes, dropping the facade. “Sorry. I know. I do,” he whispered, pulling Steve into a fierce hug. They were kneeling on the bed, wrapped tightly around one another, bowed before the moon. “Till the end of the line,” Bucky hummed, face in the crook of Steve’s neck.

They broke apart, bodies humming with vigor under the night’s watchful gaze. They looked at each other, grinning, stupid and in love. “I want to, uh,” Steve smiled bashfully, “try that thing you did with that redhead. Dolores.”

Bucky nodded innocently, tucking his brown hair behind his ears. “And what would that be, Stevie?”

Steve shoved him playfully, rolling his eyes. “C’mon, you wouldn’t stop bragging about it for a week.”

Bucky shot Steve a less-than-innocent smirk, falling onto his back and pulling Steve with him. “Then show me,” he dared, voice a soft murmur.

Before Steve’s insecurity could wrap itself around his throat and suffocate him, he leaned down, kissing Bucky gently. Their lips moved delicately, sweetly, bodies saturated in warmth. Steve’s world was poised on his lips against Bucky’s, he breathed for him, his blood sang his praises. Steve had never thought of himself as blessed, but in that moment, body pressed to Bucky’s, he felt holy. Steve ran his hand down Bucky’s clothed chest, fiddling with the hem of his shirt as their mouths remained glued together. Bucky reached down, pulling it up and over his head, momentarily breaking himself away Steve.

Steve sat up, slightly, wanting to take in the naked expanse of Bucky’s chest. There was a strength in the hard lines of his stomach, a softness in the scars that marred his tanned skin. Steve trailed his lips along Bucky’s collarbone, tasting his skin as went. There was a subtle saltiness, a vague sweetness. _I can’t believe he’s real,_ Steve thought. He smiled against his skin, moving down to kiss a particularly gnarled scar below his right pectoral. He was beautiful, every inch. Bucky ran his hand down Steve’s back appreciatively, resting his head back against the pillow with a sigh.

Steve lifted his head up. “This okay?” He rubbed Bucky’s side absentmindedly, searching his face for signs of distress.

Bucky nodded, eyes still closed. “Yeah, feels good. Keep going.” He smirked, opening one eye. “ _Please_.”

Steve laughed, resuming his exploration of Bucky’s chest. It was like a map laid out before him, every scar a memory, every memory a nightmare. But this was Bucky. _My Bucky._ The same one who’d taught him how to tie a tie, how to dance without falling down, how to _live._ Steve nosed along his abs, kissing each defined line as he progressed lower. And lower. _Shit._ He’d reached Bucky’s belt. He froze, awkwardly, unsure how to proceed. His face felt hot under Bucky’s scrutiny. Steve jerked his head up, meeting Bucky’s eyes, which were crinkled in a smile.

“C’mere,” Bucky said, gesturing Steve towards him.

Steve crawled up his body, propping himself up on his elbows as he gazed into Bucky’s eyes. Bucky leaned up, kissing Steve’s nose. He smiled demurely. “We don’t have’ta do anything,” Bucky started, tone serious, “but if you _are_ interested in a little more, my pants have gotten really, really tight, and I, uh,” he chuckled,  “don’t think I can handle anything else until I get them off.”

His words went straight to Steve’s groin, filling his chest with a vehement heat. He rested his hand on Bucky’s stomach, grounding himself on the pulse of his skin. “Do you want me to…?” Steve wondered, unsure.

Bucky raised his eyebrows. “I can take off my own pants, Steve.” He chuckled, reaching down to unbuckle his belt.

Steve lifted his hand from it’s perch on his stomach, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. Bucky smiled, blushing. _He’s nervous, too,_ Steve realized. His heart thudded deafeningly as he watched Bucky pop open the button on his jeans. He unzipped them, sitting up to push them down his thighs and off his legs. His blue-and-white-striped boxers rested gently against his tan skin, tented hotly by his hardened cock. Steve swallowed, breathless, unsure where to look.

Bucky nudged him upwards, pulling Steve’s leg over his own so that their bodies were flush against each other. Bucky moaned at the friction of Steve’s body against his groin, turning red in embarrassment. “This is so weird,” he whispered, face inches from Steve’s.

“Good weird?” Steve squeezed Bucky’s shoulder.

“Good weird,” he assured him, pulling him down for a kiss.

They kissed in a slow crescendo, passion rising as Bucky’s hands caressed Steve’s back, moving down to his ass. Steve moaned into his mouth as Bucky forced their bodies even closer, friction delicious and intoxicating. Bucky’s hand moved downwards, disappearing into his boxers.

Steve could feel the movement of Bucky’s hand beneath him, erratic and needy as he searched for release. Soft moans drifted from Bucky’s mouth into Steve’s, sweeter than sugar on his tongue. Steve ghosted his mouth across Bucky’s cheekbone, tucking his brunette hair behind his ear before nipping at his earlobe. Steve licked into the hollow of Bucky’s ear, eliciting a surprised gasp from the brunette. Steve drew back quickly.

“Ew. Tongue in ear. Bad idea.” Steve grimaced, wiping his tongue on the pillow case.

Bucky laughed, tossing his head back, before removing his hand from his boxers. He turned Steve.  “ _I_ thought it was a fine idea.”

Steve raised his eyebrows as he looked down at Bucky, affection lacing his annoyance. “And have you ever tasted earwax?”

The drunken heaviness subsided between them as brevity spread. The air was lighter, sweeter. Steve felt like he was coming up for air.

Bucky acquiesced, “I haven’t.” He ran his hands down Steve’s back, lightly brushing under the hem of his pants. He met Steve’s eyes heatedly. “But my ears aren’t _that_ waxy.”

Steve chuckled and raised his brow. “Was that supposed to be sexy?”

Bucky shrugged, smiling. “Everything I do is sexy.” He batted his eyelashes at Steve. “Right, Stevie?”

Steve smirked, rolling his eyes. “Right.”

Bucky grinned, metal hand at  Steve’s nape, pulling him in for a soft kiss. The kiss deepened as Bucky’s hands explored the swell of Steve’s ass, drawing their bodies flush together. Steve let out a soft groan as Bucky arched upwards, heart thudding desperately against his ribs. Steve met Bucky’s eyes, pupils blown wide, gaze heavy with need and raw with want. Steve felt no reservation, only the heat of Bucky’s skin beneath him.

Steve felt Bucky’s fingers brush against the button on his pants.

Bucky nipped at his ear. “Can I…?”

Steve groaned and nodded, lifting up slightly to allow better access. Bucky popped the button and slid down the zipper, hand brushing against Steve’s straining erection in his haste. Steve’s breath caught in his throat at the touch. Bucky halted, gaze snapping up to Steve’s face.

“You okay?” His brow furrowed.

Steve smiled at him, leaning down to kiss the worried creases off Bucky’s brow. He rolled off of Bucky, eliciting a chagrined whine from the brunette at the loss of contact. With wider mobility, Steve quickly slipped his pants the remaining length off his legs. Cold air hit bare skin abruptly. He was exposed, skin and heart both -- a frigid and terrifying nakedness that trickled down his neck and into his toes. He shivered slightly and pulled Bucky to him, wrapping the blanket around their waists. Bucky wrapped his hand around the back of Steve’s knee and nudged his leg over him. Steve complied, burying his face in the crease of Bucky’s neck. Bucky smiled and hiked his hand higher, over Steve’s barely-clothed ass.

Steve kissed Bucky’s shoulder and then his lips, brushing his hand along the hem of his boxers. Bucky smiled against Steve’s lips.

He pulled back, meeting Steve’s gaze. “Take them off.”

It was a challenge, a question. Steve breathed and nodded, leaning down and kissing Bucky deeply. Steve broke the kiss, sitting up. He leaned down to press light a light kiss on Bucky’s stomach. Bucky wriggled impatiently, cock embarrassingly hard as Steve drew closer.

“Stevie, baby, you don’t have to… but please, _God_ , do…” Bucky begged, arousal straining his voice.

 _Baby._ The pet name uttered from Bucky’s mouth went straight to Steve’s groin. His chest was tight, almost painfully so, with raw want. _Bucky Barnes, naked_ . Nerves crept into his brain. _My Bucky._ He was poised on the edge of the precipice, and there was only one way forward. _Jump_ . In the heavy silence of the bedroom, Steve tucked his fingers under the band of Bucky’s boxers, and slowly pulled them down. Bucky gasped as his erection was freed, resting hotly against his stomach. Steve quickly ridded Bucky off his legs, before tossing them aside. He turned, instinctively, to the newly exposed skin. He swallowed. Nestled amongst curly dark hair, Bucky’s dick was an angry red, hot and heavy against his stomach. Steve’s chest burned, hungry. _Mine_ , he vowed, brushing a hand along Bucky’s inner thigh.

Bucky chuckled above him. “You’ve gotta stop staring. It’s freakin’ me out.”

Steve snapped his attention to Bucky’s face, embarrassed. “Oh, sorry. It’s nothing bad. I, uh,” Steve propped himself down next to Bucky, brushing a hand down his side, “what do the pornstars say? It’s big?”

Bucky laughed. “I’m sorry, you watch porn?” Then, with mock-incredulity,   
“Since when, exactly, Steven?”

Steve shrugged, smiling. “That’s none of your business. Can’t you just take the compliment?”

Bucky widened his eyes innocently. “And what compliment would that be? That I have a huge dick?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I didn’t say ‘huge.’” Bucky smirked. Steve smiled, continuing, “Would ‘pretty’ be less weird?  ‘Thick’? ‘Long’? ‘Charitable-”

Bucky scrunched his eyes closed. “Stop, stop. _Please_. Nothing will make any of this less weird.”

Steve leaned in, mouthing along Bucky’s exposed neck, and pressing a kiss to the hollow of his throat. “Good weird?”

Bucky opened his eyes, pulling Steve in for a kiss. He smiled against his lips, affirming, “Good weird.”

They kissed slowly, sensually, savoring the sweet taste of each other on their tongues. They were Gods. Legends. But under that blanket, skin pressed against skin, Steve was just a man. A boy. A lovesick teenager. And, _God_ , did he love Bucky. It was an ancient love, a cursed love, a prophetic love. As if the world, in that moment, existed for them, and them alone. Steve ran his hand down Bucky’s side, stopping at his hip. His thumb brushed against the curly hair of Bucky’s groin, ever so close to his straining cock. Bucky made a strangled sound in his throat, reaching down to grab Steve’s hand. The blonde’s eyes snapped open in worry, confusion lacing their ocean blue. Bucky groaned, leaning his head backwards.

“I’m pretty sure if you touch my cock, I’m gonna cum in like five seconds.” He opened one eye to look at Steve. “Which would be super embarrassing.” He grimaced. “I just, you know, haven’t been with anyone in forever, and I swear when we were younger, Stevie, the dames would go wild for me, so, I’m good, I want to be good--”

It was like Bucky was eighteen again. Steve cocked an eyebrow. “So I’m ‘anyone’?” He sat up slightly, frowning.

Bucky’s eyes snapped to Steve, shaking his head profusely. “No, no, no, of course not; I didn’t mean it like that.” He grabbed Steve’s hand. “God, Stevie, you’re everything. _Everything._ That’s why I’m so worried. I, uh, want this to be good.” He smiled apologetically. “Fuck, I’m ruining it anyway. I understand if you don’t want-”

Steve cut him off with a kiss, pushing Bucky onto his back. His voice was low, a whisper. “I want to.”

Bucky nodded, gaze ardent as he met Steve’s lips. The kissed easily, saturated in the indulgence of their oneness, their unity. There was a selfishness in the long kisses, the soft moans, the heady warmth. They were for each-other, existing not for the world, but for themselves. Steve had never felt more human. He pulled back.

“Do I need lube, or anything?” He kissed along Bucky’s jaw. “What do you like?”

Bucky chuckled, breathless. “Anything. Anything you do is fine.”

Steve laughed. “Okay. Don’t hate me if I’m... uh, bad.”

Bucky pulled him in for a kiss, shaking his head. “Don’t even joke about that. I could never hate you.”

Steve nodded, smiling. “Good to know.”

Bucky took Steve’s right hand with his metal one, and lowered it to his hip. He shifted slightly, angling his body towards Steve.  Steve looked down at his hand on Bucky’s hip, adjacent to his half-hard dick.  He swallowed. Bucky bit his lip, amused.

“Just, uh, pretends it’s you. However you like it.” Bucky smiled encouragingly.

Steve hung his head, embarrassed. “I feel like I’m in grade school.”

“I knew you in grade school. You were never in bed with anyone this handsome. But you know, I can go… if you _really_ want the ‘grade school’ experience…” Bucky moved to sit up.

Steve grabbed his arm, pinning him onto his back. He growled, “You’re not going anywhere.”

Bucky gasped at Steve’s ferality, meeting his lips messily, passionately. Steve moved his hand across Bucky’s toned abdomen, down the side of his hip, and down his inner thigh. Bucky gasped breathlessly. “You _goddamn_ tease.”

Steve smiled against his lips, hand moving upward, brushing Bucky’s balls. Bucky moaned, touch starved. Steve trailed a finger up his shaft, exploring its hard, silken warmth. Bucky bucked against Steve’s hand, desperate for more contact. Steve obliged, wrapping his hand around the girth of his dick. Steve nipped at Bucky’s chin, trailing kisses down his neck. He rubbed Bucky’s sensitive cockhead with his thumb, eliciting a beautifully raw moan from Bucky’s throat.

“Yeah, Stevie, like that… _God.”_

Steve continued to pump Bucky’s dick in the warm tightness of his hand, growing increasingly confident with every strangled sound. He kissed Bucky’s neck and felt his rapid pulse with his lips. _So alive_. Both of them. Bucky gasped.

“Faster, baby, faster… _Jesus_ , I’m close.”

Steve swallowed Bucky’s moans down his throat as they kissed, fantasy and reality coalescing as Steve brought Bucky closer to the edge. Precum dribbled from the head of Bucky’s dick, aiding the glide of Steve’s hand.

Steve paused, unsure. “Is that…?”

Bucky’s eyes snapped open. Breathlessly, “What? No, no, I didn’t cum… that just, uh, happens, I guess?”

Steve reddened, nodding. “Right, right.” He wiped his hand absentmindedly on the sheet.  “Sorry.”

Bucky frowned, watching Steve’s movements. “Steve, it’s fine. Are you good? Are you grossed out? I can put a condom on, or, you know, we can stop if you want -”

Steve rolled his eyes and flicked Bucky’s hip lightly. “I don’t want to stop, jerk.” Steve hung his head. “I just… now I really feel like a fool.”

Bucky shook his head, smiling fondly. “A cute fool.” Steve rolled his eyes. Bucky laughed, “C’mere.”

Bucky pulled Steve’s begrudging form to him, kissing the frown off his lips. Steve relinquished his shame. He ran his hand through Bucky’s hair as he poked his tongue along his lips, slipping it into his mouth. Bucky pulled back, grimacing. He looked sideways at Steve’s hand.

“Did you just touch my hair with the cum-hand?”

Steve pulled his hand back immediately, eyes wide. He scrunched his face apologetically. “Yep. Yep. It was the cum-hand.” He moved the hand back to its appropriate locale on Bucky’s naked hip. “Sorry, Buck. I guess we’ll just _have_ to shower afterwards.” Bucky grumbled. Steve laughed and pressed a kiss to his collarbone. “Really? You don’t want me, soapy, wet…” Bucky moaned. Steve grinned, “and _naked_ in the shower?”

“Oh, _God_ , baby,” Bucky pulled him in for a messy kiss, “where’d that mouth come from?”

Steve winked, emboldened. “You bring out the worst in me, Sarge.”

Bucky’s gaze grew heated, his breath faster. “Put your fucking hand back on me, Rogers.”

Steve smirked and nodded, wrapping his hand back around Bucky’s dick. Bucky arched to the touch, desperate, as Steve brought him back to full hardness. He reached down to where Steve’s hand was moving and fondled his balls. He moaned at the overwhelming contact, throwing his head back on the pillow. Steve kissed his neck as he continued to pump his cock.

He nipped at his earlobe. “You look _so_ good like this, Buck.”

Bucky could only respond with a groan as he lost articulation to the need for release.

“Faster, Stevie, _faster_ …”

Steve obeyed, speeding up the movement of his hand against Bucky’s shaft, rubbing his sensitive cockhead with each movement. Bucky was lost in sensation. He moaned with abandon, poised on the edge.

“Fuck, _fuck_ , baby, I’m, uh, gonna cum…” Bucky closed his eyes tightly.

Steve continued the pump his dick as he fet Bucky’s balls tighten. He craved him like a drug, the touch, the sounds, the passion...

 _Is this a dream?_ Was all Steve could coherently think as Bucky came undone at his touch. Bucky screamed when he finally came, painting his chest with strands of white. His thighs shook as his orgasm rocked through him. His abs convulsed with the effort of his climax. He rested his head back, groaning. Steve dropped his hand from his dick.

Bucky’s eyes remained closed. “Oh, _God_ , Steve. Holy fuck. I think I blacked out for a second there.”

Steve bit his lip, wiping his hand on the sheet. “So, okay for a first time?”

Bucky opened his eyes and pulled Steve in for a messy kiss. “You were completely fucking amazing.” He smiled against his lips. “I love you so much.”

Steve’s heart thudded against his ribcage. He was so _incredibly_ gone. “I love you too, Bucky.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE comment, kudos, all that good stuff. Lemme know if you want me to continue. Love you ALL!

**Author's Note:**

> Look at that folks, they finally stopped being boneheads. Amazing. Feel free to hit that kudos button and shoot me a comment if you wanna ;), I swear they make me write faster! Sex w/ these two idiots to come. Pun not intended. Okay, pun maybe intended.
> 
> Come yell at me on tumblr! @Barcnes


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